A Beautiful Mind
by Sandylee007
Summary: Spencer Reid faces his worst nightmare when he wakes up locked into a sanitarium, labelled as schizophrenic. Is he really sick or is there something else going on?       A POTENTIAL TEN SHOT
1. Just a Bad Dream?

A/N: You know, I've had this story idea in the back of my head longer than I can ever remember. Now it's bursting out, so I just had to give it some flesh. (grins sheepishly)

WARNINGS: Language, a hint of gore, general weirdness… Ya know, the usual lot. (smirks coyly)

DISCLAIMER: 'CM' returned with a new season a while back. My name's still not up there in the credits. (pouts, and sobs)

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) It's always unnerving to let a new 'baby' out into the world, so I'll get started before I change my mind. I really hope this'll be a good ride!

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><p><strong><em>A Beautiful Mind<em>**

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><p>Just a Bad Dream?<p>

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><p>Dr. Spencer Reid had one particular recurring dream that disturbed him beyond all the others. In that dream he was still a child and lay in the middle of the most beautiful field that was filled with flowers in all possible colors. His mother was sitting beside him with a serene look on her face. All was good and right.<p>

Suddenly his mother looked at him with the saddest eyes and sighed. "I'm so sorry, Spencer. For all of this." Her hand felt cold as she brushed his cheek. "You really need to wake up now, sweetie." And then she disappeared, leaving him all alone.

Once again Spencer woke up from that dream with a violent jolt, gasping for breath although his lungs felt like they'd been burning up. His heart hammered violently in his chest, and for a couple of moments he truly feared it might burst.

He had no idea how long he lay there with his eyes closed, determinedly focused on breathing, until he tried to raise a hand to rub the remnants of moisture from his face. In a flash he realized that the limb wouldn't budge – something was trapping both his wrists.

Ice cold panic shot right through him, down to his spine, and his eyes flew open to meet a desolate gray ceiling that had several cracks on it.

If he'd been able to make his mouth produce anything at all, he would've _screamed_. But it felt like his tongue had been covered in sand.

Where was he? What the hell had happened?

"Spencer?" a male voice he couldn't recall hearing ever before called out from somewhere at his right. "Spencer, calm down. You're starting to hyperventilate. Take deep, even breaths."

Spencer didn't know how long it took before he got his breathing into at least some control. As soon as he did he moved his head despite the protests of his aching neck. Sitting on a clearly uncomfortable chair was a male doctor in around his mid-thirties with blue eyes, black glasses and equally dark hair. It was impossible to read the look on the man's face.

Spencer swallowed despite the fact that it felt like someone had thrust a knife into his throat. "What… What is this?" He sounded like a scared child but it failed to concern him. He was growing terrified. "Why am I tied up?"

It seemed to take ages before the doctor finally answered in a very professional tone that was most likely supposed to soothe him. "I'm Dr. Daniel Harris – we've met countless of times, remember? And this is Wellington Sanitarium." The man held a pause, most likely seeing the sheer panic rising inside him. _A sanitarium…?_ This had to be a nightmare. "You attacked a nurse yesterday, Spencer. Do you remember that?" The doctor sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. "After three months you were finally making progress, and now this. Now we need to find another path of treatment for you."

Spencer didn't even hear most of the other man's words. All that was left echoing into his head were the first words. His eyes widened to a dramatic extend. He'd never felt the kind of terror he did just then – not with Tobias Hankel, not even when the headaches began.

A sanitarium? He'd been in a sanitarium for three months? _No_ – that just wasn't possible!

He shook his head violently even though it made him feel dizzy. Or perhaps it was the drugs these people must've given him? "No. No, no, no, no. My team… We were working on a case, in Salem. We… We were just planning on making the arrest." That was the last thing he remembered. They were forced to split up, and he ran through a field…

Or no, wait. That was with the Hankel case.

He unleashed a groan and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment when a wave of headache crashed in without mercy.

"Spencer." Something in Dr. Harris' voice forced him to look towards the man. There was a sad look in the doctor's eyes. "You're hallucinating again. We're not in Salem – not even in Massachusetts."

Spencer frowned, the panic from before turning into something much sharper that made it hard to breathe. Stinging traveled everywhere in his veins and the waves of terror spinning through struck his body numb. "What…?" He shook his head, tears building up behind his eyes. This nightmare had to end! This couldn't happen! "I'm SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, from the FBI's BAU-team! Unit chief Aaron Hotchner… You have to call him – he'll tell you! Please… Call him, please. I don't belong here! I'm not crazy!"

Dr. Harris sighed again, his face tightening. "You were found walking in the middle of a road three and a half months ago, naked and covered in blood, without any ID. You wouldn't tell whose blood it was all over you when the police questioned you." The doctor's eyes were stern as they bore straigth into his. "We double checked everything, Spencer. You're not a FBI agent, haven't been for over a year – since the symptoms got out of control. You're a mental patient with the diagnose of severe schizophrenia. You'd been in outpatient care for three months until you disappeared a month before you were found from the road." When he was too overwhelmed by something harder than shock the man went on. "You're not crazy, Spencer. You're very sick, and we need to find the right way of making you feel better. We need to make those hallucinations go away."

By then the tears were streaming freely down Spencer's cheeks. "I'm not crazy!" he cried out in a desperate, heartbreaking tone. "Please! You have to believe me! I'm not crazy! You have to let me out of here!"

Dr. Harris inhaled deeply, then pulled out a pocket mirror. "This is what you did to yourself, Spencer. This is why you're here now. This is why you need this treatment."

Spencer stared into the mirror, and was fairly sure his heart stopped for a second.

For some reason the first thing he noticed was that he was nearly bald. There was only the frail beginning of dark hair visible. It also appeared he'd lost a lot of weight. His cheekbones were clearly pronounced, and the dark circles around his eyes stood out against nearly white skin. But then his eyes fell downwards, and he discovered what the doctor had been talking about. There were deep scars, from both corners of his lips to almost halfway of both cheeks.

He stared at the barely recognizable reflection and felt sick to his stomach.

What… happened to him?

"You did that to yourself", Dr. Harris told him in a quiet, very serious tone. "And since then you've harmed yourself several times. According to you the voices tell you to do so. That's why we keep you locked up."

None of those words really made it through to Spencer anymore. All that existed was overwhelming terror, such that had his whole system paralyzed.

And then, finally, he screamed, _howled_.

"Nurse!" Dr. Harris' voice was nothing but static to him. "He's going into a panic attack! Bring me the sedative!"

What the hell was going on? What had happened to him?

The needle was pushed through Spencer's skin far from gently and he cried out once more, a million thoughts exploding inside his head.

Why were these people doing this to him? How was he going to get out of this place?

With that thought the drug kicked in, and he fell into a sea of black.

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><p>'<em>A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?<em>'

(Albert Einstein)

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><p>TBC, OR NOT?<p>

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><p>AN: Oh boy…! This fic-idea has been banging the back of my head for so long that I can't believe the first bit's finally written down. (gawks)

BUT, the question goes… Would you guys like to see more of this in the future? At the moment it seems there'd be nine more bits. I've got a pretty solid idea of how this story will advance, but it's all up to you. Do ya want more? **PLEASE,** leave a note to let me know! (gives puppy's eyes)

At this point, thank you so much for reading! (Or should I type 'reiding'…?)

Who knows, maybe I'll c ya again later. (glances hopefully)

Take care!


	2. Shock to the System

A/N: Heh, I just couldn't help myself. I actually wrote this entire chapter on one sitting! It spilled to the screen of my laptop so easily that it almost scared me. Creepy, huh? For me the stories don't usually gain a life of their own this quickly. (quirks an eyebrow)

THANK YOU so much for all your amazing reviews! (HUGS) They mean A LOT to me, ya know? So thank you!

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) Because stalling won't do any good, let's just get on with the story, eh? I REALLY hope you'll enjoy this second bit of the journey.

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><p>Shock to the System<p>

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><p>Spencer had always been good at keeping track on passing time. That's why he was perfectly aware of how much time had passed from the first time he woke up to his own personal hell.<p>

Six days, nine hours and forty-eight minutes.

Or that's what he honestly thought. Because it seemed that in the middle of the four walls of his tiny room time had lost its meaning. It could've as well been six years. Perhaps even six decades – that's how long it felt to him.

He would've given anything, absolutely anything, if he'd been allowed to speak to his team, to hear their voices telling him that everything was going to be alright. To be convinced that he wasn't going crazy, that they'd make sure he'd get out of the nightmarish place.

But all he had was his four walls, his painfully uncomfortable bed and Dr. Daniel Harris. Dr. Harris, and a tiny, extremely timid young nurse who introduced herself as Kathleen when she first walked into his room with food and medication.

He was fairly sure it was around noon when steps approached his room and the door was opened to reveal Kathleen's familiar face. Her chocolate colored eyes were full of fear while she used one unsteady hand to move some strands of hay-colored hair closer to her eye. She wasn't fast enough – he saw the bruise. "It's lunch time", she announced in her usual quiet tone, kneeling down to his level and placing the tray before him to the filthy floor. Sadness, guilt, helplessness and fear shone in her eyes as she looked at him. "You have to eat, Spencer. Please. If… If you don't, Dr. Harris will…" She trailed off with a petrified expression, like she'd already said too much.

Spencer frowned, his brain working busily to put together the pieces. "He'd do what?" He glanced towards where her bruise was hiding, giving him a whisper of threat. "Did he hurt you?"

Kathleen swallowed, appearing ready to throw up. She got up and took several steps away, like she'd been afraid of him all of a sudden. "Just eat, and take your medication. He's keeping an eye on you."

Spencer shuddered, those words making his already chaotic head spin to a point of almost exploding.

His lips opened but before even one of his million questions could be voiced Dr. Harris entered the room. There was a look of rage and disappointment on the the doctor's face. "Kathleen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I want you to get out right now. I'm sure you're aware of how fragile Spencer's condition is – I don't want you making even more damage."

Muttering apologies the young woman obeyed. The look she gave Spencer upon leaving would never stop haunting the brunet's nightmares.

Dr. Harris inhaled deeply, then focused on Spencer. "I'm so sorry about that. I promise I'll make sure she won't bother you again." The man then nodded towards the three pills waiting in a tiny cup on Spencer's tray. "Now take those. We've already talked about this. It's the only way you can get better."

Feeling colder than ever in his life – even during his time in Tobias Hankel's hands – Spencer put the pills into his mouth and skillfully slipped them underneath his tongue. He was already an expert at gulping convincingly before he opened his mouth to show that it was empty.

Dr. Harris smiled. "Good. Very good. Who knows. Perhaps you're finally making some progress." With that the man turned to leave. "Don't forget to eat. I'd hate to force you into it." And so the door closed with a loud bang, isolating Spencer into the cave of horrors and loneliness.

As soon as he was sure Dr. Harris wouldn't come back or find out Spencer took the pills from his mouth, then slipped them into a hole he'd managed to make to his mattress. His eyes were those of a trapped wild animal as he stared at the closed door, barely even daring to breathe as he sat absolutely still and waited.

Waited, although he was rapidly losing touch to what exactly he was waiting for. A miracle, perhaps.

Several hours later Dr. Harris found the food untouched and Spencer still occupying the same spot where he'd left the younger man. The doctor emitted a long, heavy sigh.

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><p>Another week slipped by deviously subtly, like a very skilled thief had stolen it away. Spencer managed to skip the pills, but he couldn't avoid the rest.<p>

Through countless of therapy sessions Dr. Harris kept trying to convince him that all he believed in was nothing but a lie.

Through lonely, endless nights nightmares were his only companion, constantly circling in his head like hungry vultures.

He refused to eat. And in the end Dr. Harris lived up to his threats. Through violent protests Spencer was once again strapped and attached to a i.v. While tubes fueled him with the fluids and nutrients his body was screaming after Spencer found his resolve crackling for the very first time. He slipped into a world of his own, horrified of the moment when he'd be forced to come back.

Safe inside his own head he was with his friends, family, once more. He could actually _feel_ a warm, tender embrace, hear a whisper telling him that everything was going to be just fine. It didn't matter who the voice belonged to – all that mattered was that he believed it was real.

That he believed he was SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, not a mental patient.

That was when Dr. Harris played his most brutal trick so far. He was halfway on his way to sleep when the man entered his room with two male nurses, a somewhat grave look on his face. The doctor sighed. "Spencer… I'm so, so sorry that we have to go through this again – I know I promised you we'd never try this again. But this is for your own good, do you understand? Nothing else is working, and we need to get you better."

Spencer frowned, terror seeping towards the surface. He was surprised by how dry his mouth felt when he swallowed. "What… are you going to do to me?"

That was when he noticed what the man was carrying, and his eyes flew wide. His heart thumped beyond all limitations.

A needle full of anesthetic, and equipment necessary for connecting him to a heart monitor. He could easily come up with a procedure that'd require such.

Electroconvulsive therapy has been used since 1938. It was invented by a Italian psychiatrist named Ugo Cerletti and…

"No!" he howled, the terror from before getting completely out of control. He tried to fight back with all his might when the men held him, but it was impossible with his limbs restrained. "No, no, no! Please, no! I'm not crazy – you can't…!"

Dr. Harris cut him short with placing a hand to his lips. He was truly terrified by the look that flashed on the man's face. "Shh, Spencer. Shh. Just relax and take it easy, and this'll all be over soon."

As they thrust a needle through his skin Spencer screamed again, with absolutely all there was in his body; called out to Morgan, to Hotch, to his mom, even to Gideon. No one answered him, but nonetheless he screamed.

He screamed although he knew that it was much too late.

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><p>Spencer lost track of time after that session.<p>

He was fairly sure he spent several days in a state between sleep and awareness, every single muscle in his body sore and violent attacks of nausea ravaging his already gaunt frame. He wasn't dying, but he most certainly felt that way.

It became increasingly hard to separate reality from the creations of his mind. The memories of his time with the FBI began to feel more and more distant with each passing moment.

The mental snapshots of Derek Morgan ruffling his hair, of Jennifer Jareau's smile, of Emily Prentiss taking his hand in a jet, of him hugging Aaron Hotchner ('_I knew you'd understand_'), of Penelope Garcia grinning at him, of David Rossi abandoning him to a ditch… They were growing dimmer by each passing day. And Spencer was scared to death that one day they'd fade away altogether. Or worse.

Perhaps one day he'd find out that none of those things ever happened.

_No._ He wasn't about to fall into that trap.

His team – his family… He was sure that wherever they were, they hadn't given up on him yet. He couldn't give up on them, either. He couldn't let them turn into ghosts.

At one point he was desperate enough to ask for Kathleen. That was when Dr. Harris fixed a very strange look towards him and frowned. "Kathleen? Who are you talking about?"

There had been no one in the hospital by the name of Kathleen. Every single one of his meetings with the timid girl was nothing but a trick of his imagination.

Tears streamed down Spencer's cheeks as he threw up only seconds after those news.

What the hell was happening to him? Was he really losing his mind?

It took a injection to help him calm down. As the drug began to take affect Spencer could've sworn he heard the constantly fading voices of his friends screaming out to him.

A lone tear slid to his cheek.

He was still in a drug induced haze when a strange, foreign sound forced some awareness into him. A frown crossed his drowsy, barely even half awake features.

It was like someone had been… scratching.

Moving slowly and clumsily he shifted on his bed. It took several seconds before his spinning head cleared enough to allow him to realize that there was a hole on the wall he'd never noticed before, right above the floor. Now there was a tiny piece of paper sticking from it.

The frown on his face deepened. Deciding to defy the screaming protests of his head Spencer forced himself out of the bed and into motion. His steps were dangerously unsteady, which was why it took him what felt like ages to reach the piece of paper.

After a couple of futile attemps he managed to pick up the note and fold it open. His eyes couldn't quite focus, but finally the words made sense although they were blurry to his eyes. What little warmth there'd been in his body disappeared immediately.

'_Is there someone in there?_

_Please help me!_'

And nothing made sense anymore.

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><p>TBC, or not?<p>

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><p>AN: I'd call that a plot thickening. (nods to oneself and shudders) What, exactly, is going on with Reid?

**PLEASE**, leave a note to let me hear what's on your minds! To continue, or to toss into a cyber trashcan? Do tell me your opinion! (glances with irresistable eyes)

IN THE NEXT ONE would be: New, desperate hope sends Reid's mind reeling. He ends up to a solution that may have dramatic consequences…

Until next time, I hope – with whichever story that may be!

Be good!

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><p><strong>Secret agnet person<strong>: Oh gosh, how flattered you're making me feel…! (beams, and hugs) I REALLY hope the next one proves worthy of absolutely all your expectations.

Monumental thank yous for the baffling review!


	3. Trip the Darkness

A/N: Nope, you guys aren't seeing things. Then new chappy IS here! Yay…? I guess my mind went a bit crazy with this story. This chapter was born in a flash. (chuckles slightly sheepishly)

BUT, first of all… GOSH! You sure seemed to like the previous chapter. (beams) THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all those fantastic reviews! You can't even imagine how warm and fuzzy they made me feel. So thank you! It means a lot that this story is so loved. (hugs)

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) I suppose it's time to get going, eh? I REALLY hope this chapter manages to please ya.

**SONG RECOMMENDATION**: Listen to the song 'Trip the Darkness' from Lacuna Coil or read the lyrics. It seriously fits this story! (shudders)

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><p>Trip the Darkness<p>

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><p>Spencer stared at the note with wide, disbelieving eyes, furiously attempting to force his breathing into a pattern that could be considered healthy.<p>

After thinking about it for a moment he decided that desperate fool's hope was a much better option than having no hope at all. And so he knocked on the wall, sending a message with some carefully controlled beats. In a few moments there was a slightly more hesitant response.

Spencer's eyes widened even further.

So the person on the other side of the wall was familiar with morse code.

Over the following hour he heard huge pieces of the other prisoner's story. Apparently his companion was a thirty-four years old father of three named Oliver Kinnear, a former Navy Seal. The man was fairly sure it was nine months from when he woke up in this place, his last coherent memory being the sound of his wife screaming. When Oliver demanded what had happened Dr. Harris explained to him that his whole family had been butchered right before the man's eyes and Oliver himself barely survived. Since they were gone Oliver sunk into a world of psychotic depression, in the end going far enough to drive straigth at a bridge with the speed of seventy-five miles per hour. It was a miracle he survived. Oliver concidered '_miracle_' the last word to be used in his situation. He'd already lost his whole family, and with Dr. Harris' treatment methods he was rapidly losing himself as well. He had nothing to fight for – or didn't until Dr. Harris slipped and he managed to see one page of a newspaper two months earlier. There was a picture of a widely smiling little girl named Anna, along with congratulations on her fifth birthday. Oliver said that he knew it was insane, but he was _sure _that the little girl was his daughter. And suddenly he had everything to fight for.

In his turn Spencer revealed that he was a FBI-agent and honestly didn't know what to believe in anymore. But he did know that he had to get out, before it was too late. He had to get to his family before he'd get lost into his worst nightmare.

'_Are we ever going to get out of here?_' Oliver asked him.

Spencer hesitated, then knocked the only honest answer. '_We'll try._'

In the end Oliver clearly exhausted himself because the knocking grew lighter before fading away altogether. But Spencer wasn't discouraged even when the noises ended.

For the first time since he woke up in this place he had hope. And more importantly, he had something – someone – to hang on for.

The hope that thought aroused inside him guided him through even when Dr. Harris appeared to his room a while later with a needle in his hand.

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><p>After that day they knocked on the wall several times, trying to convince each other and themselves when they assured one another that this would be over one day, that any given day they'd be saved and they'd walk out side by side. But more and more often Oliver was too sick to be able to take part into their fairytale game. And Spencer began to have a sickening feeling that he'd have to find a way out of this hell all alone.<p>

Days passed by and blurred in together while Spencer desperately attempted to maintain his grasp on the reality he believed in. In the end he took the pen Dr. Harris had once given him – to give him the chance to write down his thoughts whenever he wanted to – and slid under his bed to write onto wood. His hand shook as he wrote down the desperate words.

_You're SSA Dr. Spencer Reid._

He wrote down those words every single time he felt his touch on the reality slipping, every time the memories of his team and his very life began to dim in his head. He wrote until his fingers were nearly bleeding and he managed to _believe _again.

As a yet another day darkened towards a freezing cold evening he counted that he'd written down those words six hundred and twenty-eight times.

When he slid out from under the bed that late evening he frowned upon hearing barely audible whimpering and what sounded suspiciously lot like sobs. It took him a moment to realize that the sounds floated in through the hole between his and Oliver's room.

Frowning and feeling some concern swell inside he walked closer to the wall, prepared to knock until he heard Dr. Harris' voice. He couldn't make out what the doctor said but the words made Oliver cry even harder.

Oliver… They were trying to break him down. And there was nothing Spencer could do to help the man.

And then, before he got the chance to distance himself from the wall, Dr. Harris opened the room's door without a knock. The man arched an eyebrow upon seeing where he was. "Is everything alright, Spencer?"

He nodded and licked his painfully dry lips. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine." He didn't sound convincing even to his own ears. He cleared his throat, deciding to attempt diverting the conversation elsewhere. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be home by now."

His attempt seemed to work. Dr. Harris' eyes eased. "I'm on call tonight." The man then handed a mug of water towards him, the look on his face hardening once more. "I heard you haven't been eating again, and I think we both agree that's not good. I want you to drink this, at least. It's just water. Your body won't be able to handle much more without any fluids and nutrients – I'm sure you're aware of that." Seeing his look of suspicion the man smiled. "Just drink this, and I may be able to keep you off the IV for a while."

Spencer knew he needed the water – he was so thirsty that he couldn't even think straigth. That's why he took the mug and after a second of hesitation gulped eagerly. He frowned as his tongue registered that the water didn't taste quite right. It was like someone had…

The mug slipped from his grasp and his eyes flew wide.

Dr. Harris looked at him with a worried frown. "Spencer, what's wrong?"

Spencer's veins tingled as panic sped through them. His fists balled without him even noticing it. "What… What did you give me?" His ears were buzzing so he honestly couldn't know that he was screaming. "You drugged me! What was in that water?"

Had the situation been a little less extreme he might've snorted at the fear he could momentarily see in the doctor's eyes. "Spencer, you need to calm down. There was nothing in the water that didn't belong into it, do you understand? I would never hurt you."

Spencer's eyes flashed. "Then why the hell are you keeping me here?"

"Because you're dangerous to yourself _and_ others." Dr. Harris seemed to hesitate for a while but in the end allowed the words to fall. "Because I can't let you kill again."

Those words felt like a knife had been thrust directly to his chest, through his heart. Spencer shuddered violently, instantly paralyzed by such horror he'd never, ever felt before. Absolutely nothing made sense to him as he began to shiver so that it was a miracle he could stand. "What?" he breathed out after a tiny lifetime.

No… NO! There was no fucking way that could be true! It _couldn't_ be true, Dr. Harris was just messing with his head. There was no way in hell he…!

Dr. Harris' eyes were filled with sadness as the man sighed. "I'm sorry. I was hoping I wouldn't have to remind you like this. But I've noticed that you haven't been taking your medication, and just looking at you tells me that you're not responding to the treatment like you should. We're going to have to find a entirely new pathway if you ever want to get better again." The doctor touched him, making him flinch. "I'm going to get something that'll help you calm down and think more clearly, alright?" So saying the man began to walk towards the room's door.

Spencer's eyes widened, filled with panic, disbelief, despair and sadness. Everything seemed to be spinning in his line of vision. "Don't leave!" he cried out in a desperate, tear filled voice. Some tears of sheer terror and unimaginable ache rolled down his cheeks. "You can't just leave after saying those things, you can't! You… You need to tell me! Who did I hurt? Who did I…?" He just couldn't utter the last word – couldn't utter anything at all, actually.

Instead he slid to the floor as all will left his muscles and buried his face into his hands, sobs that came from deep within his soul making his body shudder like it'd been spasming.

He had _not _killed anyone. Dr. Harris was lying – he could never, ever harm anyone. It was his duty to protect people. He couldn't have taken someone's life!

But still, as he stared at his shaking hands in the shadows for a moment it looked like the dark on them had been dried blood.

And no matter how long and hard he _prayed_ for the nightmare to end it never did.

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><p>Time moved in odd, untraceable patterns after that day. It couldn't have been more than weeks, but to Spencer it felt like years. The injections from Dr. Harris came much more frequently now, and all the drugs in his system made Spencer feel drowsy and incoherent all the time. Eventually it was getting increasingly hard to separate dreams from reality. It didn't make matters any easier that he couldn't convince himself to eat more than was absolutely necessary to stay alive. In the end he was too weak and disoriented to put up much of a fight when Dr. Harris dragged him to another session of ECT.<p>

The nights weren't quiet, either. Every moment he spent awake after dark had fallen he could've sworn he heard desperate screams from somewhere in the building. Although it sickened him he prayed from the bottom of his heart and soul that those voices were for real.

He wasn't this place's only prisoner. He was convinced of that although Oliver wasn't answering his knocks anymore.

That thought was confirmed in the cruelest possible way one night when screams and running steps pulled him out of a drug induced haze. All that noise… It was coming from the room next to his. Something was wrong with Oliver.

Spencer practically held his breath while he waited desperately for any answers whatsoever. Oliver's room became horrifyingly quiet. And then steps approached his room.

His heartbeat gained a far from healthy speed when there were sounds behind his door and it was yanked open. Soon Dr. Harris materialized to the doorway. There was a unreadable look on the man's face. "I'm sure you heard a lot of that commotion. Are you alright?"

Spencer swallowed thickly, suddenly more aware than he had been in ages. "What… What was that?" he half whispered in a raspy tone. When was the last time he'd spoken?

He got the possibly last answer he would've wanted when Oliver's door was opened and two sets of steps inched closer. Dr. Harris was fast, but not fast enough. Spencer's eyes widened and his whole body turned cold and heavy as he stared at the black body bag being carried past his doorway.

He'd thought this nightmare couldn't get any worse. He'd been wrong.

Dr. Harris sighed, giving him a sad look. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

It took ages before he finally found his voice, and when he did it was barely audible. "What happened?"

The doctor hesitated for a while before speaking. "He… was a severely depressed young man. We failed to save him."

Spencer didn't know how to react, so he simply stared at the now empty hallway outside his room. Was it evening already? Because the shadows looked dark and thick. A weight he couldn't force away sat to his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Dr. Harris opened his mouth to speak but before the man got the chance to his cell phone started to ring. After a couple of gruff responses the doctor fixed a apologetic look towards him. "I have to go now, Spencer. But I'll come and check up on you soon, alright? Everything's going to be alright, I promise you."

Spencer barely heard the man, nor did he notice how the doctor left and closed the door. His thoughts were already spinning out of control.

This… This was his fault, he knew. Because of his actions a man was dead. This all happened because of the two of them found a way to communicate – somehow these people got a clue. They found out and decided to put an end to it, whatever it'd take.

Without his own command Spencer's gaze traveled towards the room's ceiling. The thought came like a bolt of lightning, striking away the little breath he'd had.

They were watching him. That'd explain it all. There was a camera somewhere.

His eyes were sharp and wild as they darted frantically around the room, finally pausing to a tiny pocket mirror Dr. Harris had left for him when he woke up what felt like ages ago. He swallowed although his mouth and throat felt painfully dry.

At that very moment he remembered George Foyet.

He needed to get out of this room if he ever wanted to get out of this nightmare. And to get out of the room he needed to…

He swallowed again, for several moments sure that he'd throw up, then pushed his mind to a different track with all his might. His eyes were narrowed as he darted them around the ceiling, trying to detect an angle that couldn't be seen properly through a camera. And then he sat down and smashed the mirror against the floor, making it explode to pieces. His hand shook when he picked up one piece and brought it to the tender skin of his wrist.

If they wouldn't let him out, he'd have to let himself out. This was a crazy, desperate plan, but this was also his only option.

Some tears spilled to his cheeks and his hands began to shake as a storm of adrenaline picked up while he sucked in a one more uneven breath.

And then he allowed glass to cut through skin.

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><p>TBC.<p>

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><p>AN: Ooookay… (takes a deep breath, then screams and dodges thrown objects) Before you hunt me down with sticks and stones, let me assure you that the next chapter is already sitting there right on the edge of my head! If ya want to read it, it'll be out FAST. (Yeeah, I'm sure that was a lot of consolation…) (Ain't sarcasm nice?)

So, how was it – any good at all? **PLEASE**, do leave a review to let me know your thoughts (hell, yell at me for the cliffie if ya wanna)!

IN THE NEXT ONE WOULD BE: Reid's desperate plan for escape is in motion, but he slams directly into something that may smash everything to pieces. Is he on the edge of serenpidity, or about to get lost into the labyrinth of his mind? Next one out, 'Down the Rabbit Hole'.

Until next time, folks, with whichever story that may be! Right…? (glances hopefully)

Peace out!

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><p><strong>Hatsuharu M<strong>: It's really irritating when you can't know for sure, no? (groans) But no worries. All answers will come eventually…

I'm THRILLED to hear ya're still eager for more. I really hope the next piece delivers!

Massive thank yous for the review!

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><p><strong>Secret agent person<strong>: It did? HOORAY! (beams and dances around like a madwoman) Gosh, I'm all flattered here. (blushes)

(chuckles) Dang, I can't let those nasty lil' things get you! (rushes over to update) I certainly hope the next update pleases them…

Colossal thank yous for the review!


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

A/N: Damn! This story's seriously gaining a life of its own. I wrote this chapter on one sitting – it'd slipped to the screen before I even realized what was happening. (gawks) Fast updates, hooray? (It's either now or several days later.) (winces)

BUT, first things first! GOSH, you guys, thank you so much for your absolutely amazing reviews! (beams and glomps) Your love seriously fuels this story, ya know? So THANK YOU! You can't even imagine how imporant you are. You ROCK! (hugs again)

Aaaalright… (inhales deep) It's time to jump forward with the story, no? I truly hope you'll enjoy this part of the ride.

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><p>Down the Rabbit Hole<p>

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><p>Over the course of his relatively short life Spencer had grown well used to enduring pain. That's why the agony in his mouth wasn't the worst part of his plan. The very worst part ended up being the taste of blood.<p>

With all his senses working on overdrive he _reacted_. His abused abdominal muscles spasmed and screamed for mercy when he threw up once, twice, thrice, causing a horrifying pool of dark crimson to the floor.

In the end he lost control over his mouth as well. Some tears filled his eyes as he whimpered out in a foreign, wet voice. "Help!" He was sure they were watching him, monitoring his every move. They must've noticed what was happening, so why weren't they doing anything? A couple of tears spilled to his cheeks when he threw up once more, his stomach and mouth burning with such agony that nearly swept his mind blank. "Help…!"

Nothing but absolutely silence answered him. And for a horrifying fleeting second he wondered if he was wrong, after all.

Then, as he surrendered to the dark creeping in through the edges of his vision and sank limply to the floor, he heard the steps. Or at least thought he did. His head was so hazy that it was almost impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't.

As his eyes slipped closed something seemed to happen to his hearing as well. He barely caught the tiny screech of the room's door opening, and the voices – at least three of them – all around him made no sense to him.

Just before Spencer's head shut down altogether he felt himself being lifted from the floor and carried. And although he faded into a abyss inside his head he smiled.

Out. He was finally out.

And then in again.

Spencer's head refused to be shut down for a long time. By the time he was coherent once more he was still wheeled somewhere. The sound of the gurney clattering sounded deafeningly loud to his ears.

"What the hell happened?" That was without a doubt Dr. Harris. There was quite obvious fret in the man's voice.

"We don't know yet", a unfamiliar male voice responded, so tense in almost weavered. Was it one of those male nurses he'd seen often? "He… He started vomiting blood – that's about all we know before we get him to infirmary."

Dr. Harris swore quite loudly and colorfully in a language that most definitely wasn't English, then took his time before speaking once more. "Get him fixed up, see if he'll regain consciousness, then page me. It looks like I really need to talk to him."

Swinging doors flew open and sterile reek slapped Spencer right at his face. He was, however, careful not to cough or show any signs of discomfort whatsoever.

This was the same way he often survived bullies at school. When he played unconscious they were rather quick to lose interest in him. If he was lucky the same trick would work now.

Perhaps it did, for there were only two people left hovering above him – hands connecting him to monitors and examining him. It took him a lot not to wince when he was attached roughly to a IV, and he wished from the bottom of his heart that he could've screamed when they began to investigate his mouth. If he'd had even a little bit less willpower the pain would've swept him right under but he forced himself to remain alert, knowing how much was at stake.

Someone hissed, after which the same unfamiliar voice he'd heard before spoke. "Jesus… These wounds don't look good."

"Yeah", another solemn voice joined in. This time a hand was groping his wrist. "And take a look at this. How desperate do you have to be to pull up a stunt like this? He could've gotten himself killed."

"I think that was the plan", the first speaker pointed out bleakly. There was a long sigh. "Well, let's put him back together and see how he feels when he wakes up. We'll have to keep him here for at least overnight."

Despite the still surging pain Spencer's heart skipped a beat as hope flowed through him.

The hope was, however, not very long lived. For as soon as they began to stitch him up he realized that there was no way he'd be able to take it. Every little thing they did made him feel like he'd been torn to shreds.

For the first time since beating his addiction he wanted to _scream_ for something that'd dull his mind and body.

Why the hell weren't they using any medication?

In the end his mind simply shut down on him. He'd never felt quite as helpless as he did just then, slipping into a hungry sea of black.

* * *

><p>While he was unconscious Spencer had a brief, disturbing dream. He couldn't have been older than five and he was walking through the thickest fog he'd ever seen with his mother. He was scared out of his mind but the hold she had on him convinced him that everything would be alright. She'd never, ever leave him alone.<p>

Until suddenly his hand broke loose from his mother's.

His eyes widened while terror struck his body ice cold. "Mommy?" There was no response. And the fog kept growing thicker, isolating him into its embrace. "Mommy!" The fog swallowed him up in whole.

Then his eyes flew open and he sucked in several eager gasps, oblivious to the moisture filling his eyes.

He kept panting while his eyes darted around frantically, quickly pinpointing two important things. He was awake. And he was still in that unfamiliar room he'd been dragged into before he lost consciousness.

As quickly as his head allowed he glanced towards the room's window and sucked in a breath of relief. It was still dark. He couldn't have been unconscious longer than he'd planned.

He was terrified to his very core at first but he moved his hands, almost ending up crying out with relief when it succeeded. That was another part of his plan that could've easily gone wrong – if they'd decided to tie him up it would've been next to impossible to leave this place.

Trying with his all to ignore the searing pain in his mouth and wrist he hauled his body up and after sitting on the edge of the bed for a second tried his feet. He swayed for a moment like he'd been drunk before managing to regain balance. His eyes were slightly hazy while he looked around.

The room around him was almost completely white, with only two beds, some small metal tables and a lot of medical equipment in it. Quite soon he noticed that there was nothing he could've used as a weapon.

Nothing but the metal bar from which the IV bag attached to him was hanging.

Quickly and with a involuntary hiss off pain he ripped off the IV, instantly clasping his hand over the wound it left to control the bleeding. He winced a bit while crimson stained his fingers but didn't let it slow him down.

They were watching him, he knew. He didn't have a second to waste.

That thought pushed him to motion once more. Ignoring the bloodstains he caused he grabbed the metallic bar from which the IV bag had previously been hanging and advanced towards the room's swinging doors with long, surprisingly quiet steps. He took one glance at the hallway through the door's window to make sure the route was clear before continuing.

The long, completely white hallway seemed to stretch to all eternity and it took Spencer far too long to figure out which direction he should take. He truly hoped his instincts weren't failing him as he chose to head left.

Didn't he deserve to be lucky for once in his life?

His blood buzzed and twirled in his veins with such volume that it deafened his ears while he passed by several doors that were exactly like the one he'd just walked through. He kept walking and walking until he reached a door that needed a code to open.

Spencer froze and licked his lips, staring at the numbers.

When he visited his mother the code to most doors was often the current year. Maybe this so called hospital was similar?

Making his decision he reached out a far from steady hand and pressed '_2011_'. He shuddered a little when the light on the black box turned from red to green. For a second, perhaps two, he simply stared.

In the middle of this hell it was almost impossible to believe that something could be going right. It made a bad feeling swell in his stomach.

Shaking away all other thoughts he took a surprisingly firm hold on the door handle and pushed the door open, making his way to the stairway. The stairs spiralled downwards, towards nearly black depths. He couldn't help imagining what was waiting down below.

Swallowing thickly and bracing himself he began to climb down. His steps echoed uncomfortably loudly in the isolated space, sounding almost like gunshots. It was only a matter of time before someone was going to hear him.

His hold on the metal bar he was still carrying around tightened, became nearly convulsive.

He was _not_ about to let them drag him back into that room, not ever again.

After ages he finally reached the end of the stairs, a completely dark space in which he could barely even see the door before him. It took all his courage not to turn on the lights while his free hand fumbled around desperately, trying to find _anything_.

What he found was another codebox.

It was hard to determine which number was which in the dark, especially when his head was still hazy from all the drugs that'd been pumped into his system. But eventually he saw how red turned into green. His heart stopped for a tiny moment as the realization shot through him like a electric pulse.

He was free.

Or so he thought until he opened the door. Because what he found was a yet another hallway, almost similar to the one he'd just left. White and endlessly long, full of doors to even more nightmares.

Spencer emitted a choked breath, only sheer willpower keeping him from breaking down into sobs. This couldn't be happening…!

Just then his fervently wandering eyes locked on something that caught absolutely all his attention. He shuddered a little and licked his lips once more.

Only about six steps away from him was a small office. There, on a otherwise empty brown table, lay one hospital file. The sticker on top of the file had his social security number and name '_Spencer Reid_'.

Somehow he already knew that he was making a huge mistake but he couldn't stop himself. He took one step, then another, until the distance to the door had been closed. In some other situation he might've managed to be surprised by the fact that the door was unlocked. As it was he only entered, all his attention and focus locked on the file. His hands had never been shaking the way they did while he opened the file. It didn't take more than a couple of seconds until he wished from the bottom of his heart he never had.

Staring back at him were numerous reports from doctors – of violent resistance, of self destructive behavior, hopeless words of a patient not responding to his treatment at all. The oldest records he reached took place at least five months earlier. Spencer's lips opened while intense nausea ravished his body but he couldn't emit a sound, couldn't even breathe. Tears filled his eyes, sliding down his cheeks.

He'd been deemed unfit to be a agent, then locked up into this hospital. He'd been deemed a threat to himself and others.

This Spencer Reid… He didn't know this man at all. What the hell was all this? This _couldn't_ be him, his life, his mind!

Those words – _lies_, he tried to tell himself although he had very hard time believing it – weren't the worst part, though. Because just then he ran into the crime scene photographs.

There were pictures of a woman who's face been beaten up so badly that it was impossible to recognize her. Her long, blonde hair had several trails of blood staining them as she lay on a floor. The shade of her skin told him that she'd been dead for several hours. His mind, however, instantly clung to other matters.

Her body structure, the color of her hair… They matched perfectly.

Blood froze into Spencer's veins and his throat constricted to a point where he was sure he'd suffocate. The tears kept falling harder, landing on the pictures.

The woman… She looked almost exactly like…!

The cautious steps approaching him from behind startled him so badly that he nearly jumped. He dropped the file like it'd burned and spun around to find Dr. Harris. There was a sad look on the man's face. "I left that file for you, so that you'd finally see. So that you'd know. I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

Spencer swallowed thickly, feeling a desperate need to throat up. He took a step away from the doctor, bumping into the table. "What… What is this?" he demanded in a terrified, broken tone. His voice shook even more than his body did.

Dr. Harris sighed. "You and Jennifer… Things hadn't been the same between you two since Emily's return – you've told me so yourself. You fought a lot, especially after your mental condition began to deteriorate. And one day… One day she came to check up on you, to make sure you were alright. She couldn't have known that you were having one of your episodes." The man grit his teeth. "Do you remember how I told you that you were covered in someone's blood when you were found before being transferred here?" The man hesitated for a second. "That blood… It was Jennifer's. You'd killed her with several hits of a hammer. Her body was found later that day, when your former team went to investigate your apartment."

Spencer felt like he'd been shot, or perhaps burned up alive. His eyes and nostrils widened while all will left his muscles and he slid to the floor, his face buried into his hands. Old and fresh tears mixed with the blood that'd been staining his hands earlier. The metal bar he'd been carrying clattered loudly to the floor right next to him.

_Wake up!_, he screamed at himself, never realizing that he was screaming it out loud. _Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!_

He didn't. Instead he felt Dr. Harris' hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Spencer", the doctor whispered. "I'm sorry."

Spencer couldn't hear another word. A sharp, siren like noise filled his head, threatening to tear his brain apart, and his head hurt so much that he screamed once again. In the end his head simply shut down completely.

Everything became black.

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><p>TBC, right?<p>

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><p>AN: Uh huh… Talking about a shocker. (winces) Poor Reid! What the heck is happening in reality?

**PLEASE**, leave a note to let me know your thoughts! Good, bad, HORRIBLE, lukewarm? I'm utterly exhausted right now, so it'd mean the world to me. (gives one's best pleading eyes)

IN THE NEXT ONE (if you want it, of course): The line between reality and lies grows dimmer and dimmer as Reid has random flashbacks to the last case he's worked on. In the meantime Dr. Harris makes it increasingly hard for him to run away from his nightmare…

Until next time, I hope!

Peace out!

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><p><strong>Hatsuharu M<strong>: We'll see. But let's hope that whatever he finds won't push things further downhill. There's no telling how he'd take another hit. (winces)

Let's hope this entire mess will start to clear out soon, because it looks like poor Reid's close to reaching his limit.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!

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><p><strong>secret agent person<strong>: (chuckles) That's good to hear – there's no messing with those things.

Poor Oliver indeed! And especially Reid. Let's hope he manages to figure his way through this mess before it's too late.

Cookie and brownies, hmm? (smirks) You just bargained yourself a chapter!

Monumental thank yous for the review!


	5. Astronaut

A/N: See? I'm capable of being nice. The new update's already here! Hooray?

BUT, first, of course… HUGE, huge thank yous for all those absolutely amazing reviews! (beams, and GLOMPS with all her strength) You guys are AMAZING, ya know? My head's gone crazy with this story, and it's for a big part thanks to you. So thank you! (hugs again)

Awkay, because I doubt you're here for my babbling… (inhales deeply) Let's rock on. I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the ride!

**CHANGE OF PLANS! **When describing the chapter to come at the end of number 4, it was stated that Reid will begin to have flashbacks. As it turned out they didn't really fit into this chapter. But no worries! They'll show up in number 6. (grins)

**SONG RECOMMENDATION**: I've got two for this one! 'Meds' from Placebo (which I found thanks to a dear reader) and 'Astronaut' from Simple Plan (one of my current favorites). I think they both fit incredibly well.

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><p>'<em>Cause tonight I'm feeling like an astronaut<br>Sending SOS from this tiny box  
>And I lost all signal when I lifted up<br>Now I'm stuck out here and the world forgot  
>Can I please come down, cause I'm tired of drifting round and round<br>Can I please come down?_'

(Simple Plan, 'Astronaut')

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><p>Astronaut<p>

* * *

><p>Spencer knew that it takes human body a while to recover from the state of shock. According to Dr. Harris he spent several days in a nearly catatonic state since the man told him all those sickening things. Since he was told he'd…<p>

Spencer bit the inner side of his cheek so hard he drew blood and narrowed his eyes. His long grown fingernails almost dug through his shirt to the skin of his arms.

_No._ JJ was alive and well. She was home with Henry and Will. He needed to believe that or he'd truly lose his mind.

He lifted his gaze towards the room's ceiling and focused on breathing for a long while when his breathing pattern became unhealthy. Even as he was sitting on the floor, with his knees brought to his chest, he felt like he'd been falling endlessly. He'd never felt so utterly, hopelessly lonely in his entire life.

His jaw tightened as his thoughts strayed to his team.

Were they looking for him? Did they miss him? Did they know just how badly he would've wanted to be there with them? Because he'd never, ever wanted anything as much, not even Dilaudid.

And good grief, he needed to hear their voices! If he wouldn't soon he really feared he might began imagining them. He _needed_ them to tell him that this nightmare would be all over soon, that he didn't have to be scared anymore. That they'd take him home.

He emitted a choked sound when his throat constricted so that he was startled he might not be able to breathe soon. He swallowed convulsively, the blockage in his throat sinking downwards and crashlanding to his stomach. Nausea made him shudder and pull his legs even tighter to his rapidly moving chest.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried, tried with his all, to convince his mind into flying. Into carrying him back home. With eidetic memory it wasn't all that hard to reconstruct the faces of his teammembers – family – right before his eyes.

For a moment – just a fleeting second – he could've sworn that felt a distinctly familiar, gentle touch on his shoulder. The sensation was so vivid that his own hand moved rapidly, desperately, only meet the fabric of his hospital shirt.

This time no amount of saliva was enough to erase what gathered into his throat.

At that moment he decided that he didn't care how many pairs of eyes were observing him, what Dr. Harris would say about his course of actions. His hands shook slightly as he reached out to the hidden storage under his mattress, managing to pull out a piece of paper and the stump of a pen. He'd been salvaging those items, treated them as his most valuable treasures and waited for the right moment. This was it.

Twisting his body so that no video camera would be able to see what he was doing he began to write, his hand growing even more unstable.

'_I'm here all alone, but I know you're all out there._

_I'm trying to hold on to you._

_Please don't forget me._'

His feet felt weak – from exhaustion, lack of eating and drugs – as he hauled himself up, then made his way to the window. There was a small crack on it no one else had noticed. Autumn was turning into a winter and the crack was making the room's air almost unbearably cold, but he needed this opportunity.

It was harder than he'd expected to uncurl his fingers and let the piece of paper go, knowing that the ones it was meant for would most likely never receive it. His eyes were somewhat bleary as he watched the note float away like some sort of a strayed snowflake that'd lost its course. It didn't take long before it was far out of his reach.

He was still stood by the window when the room's door opened. He didn't bother looking over his shoulder – by then he recognized Dr. Harris' footsteps. "Good morning, Spencer", the doctor greeted him. He heard a needle being prepared and shivered. He was sick of all those drugs fogging his head. "How are you this morning?"

Spencer pressed his lips tightly together and folded his arms. He hadn't spoken a word to Dr. Harris since his disastrous escape attempt.

The doctor sighed heavily and held a long pause, as though wondering how to set his words. "Look, Spencer… I know you're not doing well right now. I'm really worried about you. And that's why I have to do something you're not going to like." There was another moment of silence, even longer than the previous one. "You're a danger to yourself. That's why there'll be someone right outside your door at all times, to monitor that you don't do anything stupid. Is that alright with you?"

Spencer didn't respond outwardly but his insides were sent to a turmoil.

So he was on suicide watch? How the hell was he supposed to find a way to escape now? How was he ever going to make it out of this place?

He wondered how worrying it was that he didn't fight back when the needle pierced his skin. He just didn't have the will and strength to do anything anymore. Instead he lifted his gaze towards the window and sky up above.

Out there snow was falling softly.

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><p>Once more Spencer lost the track of time. Perhaps several lifetimes manages to fly by without him noticing?<p>

Since he refused to swallow any pills Dr. Harris ended up using injections instead. They came every single day – two large male nurses and the doctor himself – and for a few hours he floated in a somewhat chilling sea of bliss. That bizarre world was so close to his experiences with Dilaudid that it terrified him.

And then the drugs stopped working.

He grew used to the dosages faster than they'd expected. It was most likely the only time his past addiction was useful, he mused bitterly. And he was very, very skilled in playing out all the signs they were looking for when the substance circled in his blood. He was good enough to buy himself some more time with a clear head.

He needed every second he could get if he wanted this nightmare to ever end.

His best guess was that it was a very early morning as he sat in Dr. Harris' office, surprised that for once the man had allowed him there.

Dr. Harris looked at him with evaluating eyes. "I've heard you've been doing better. But judging by the looks of it eating and sleeping are still problem areas."

Spencer didn't know what to say to that so he squeezed his lips tightly together.

Dr. Harris leaned forward with a sigh he just caught. "You really need to trust me, Spencer. We both have the same goal – we both want you to get better and out of here. But to achieve that we have to be able to trust each other. I understand that it's not easy for you, but I need you to trust me."

Spencer didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "And how are you planning on doing that?" Those were the first words he spoke to the doctor since the man claimed JJ was…

Dr. Harris shrugged, smiling slightly for a moment. "Why don't you tell me what I'd need to do and we'll take it from there."

Spencer head was whirring and hurting. That's why it took several moments before a coherent thought broke through. He half-whispered the last words he'd expected. "There's… I think there is something you can do for me."

The doctor nodded, ushering him forth. "Go on ahead and tell me."

Spencer looked at the doctor directly to eyes, observing and calculating. His fingers were twitching convulsively, all too familiar fear swelling in his stomach. "I want to visit JJ's grave."

Dr. Harris stared at him with quite open confusion, perhaps even curiosity. But Spencer never got his answer because just then there was a knock on the room's door. In a moment one of the two male nurses he knew all too well peered in. There was a tight expression on the man's face. "Dr. Harris, I'm sorry to bother you, but… We've got an emergency."

The doctor's eyebrows knitted together. "Emergency?"

"Code five."

Dr. Harris didn't actually swear but it was easy to tell the man came very close to it. The doctor glanced towards him. "Stay here, alright?" The man nodded towards the nurse. "Chris will be right outside the door, if you need anything at all. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Spencer nodded, watching with something close to disbelief as the room emptied. The door was closed firmly after the two men.

It took one dangerously long moment, perhaps two, before Spencer realized that this was the chance he'd been waiting for. His eyes flew towards the cell phone on the doctor's desk.

Just one phone call and this could all be over.

Hesitation vanished. His hand was quick as he grabbed to phone, then dialed numbers that were forever burned into his head. He hoped from the bottom of his heart and soul that they hadn't changed the number.

It seemed they hadn't, for after a torturously long wait he heard a familiar voice that nearly made his heart stop. "_Hello?_" Aaron Hotchner sounded utterly exhausted and almost sad. It was the tone of voice that made the hesitation creep back into Spencer's head.

What if everything Dr. Harris had told him was true? Even the mere thought was insane – it made him feel so sick that he wanted to throw up. But… What if he really did hurt JJ? What if…?

"_Hello?_" Aaron's voice was significantly sharper, demanding. "_Who's there?_"

Spencer's head _hurt_, although he suspected the pain came from somewhere much deeper within him._ Everything _hurt.

He didn't realize that a sob had broken through until Aaron spoke once more. "_Reid?_" In his current state of body and mind it was impossible to name what the tone of voice was like.

And then his chance was lost.

Steps approached the room. Exactly one second after he hung up and put the cell phone to its place the door opened and Dr. Harris entered. It took only a blink before the man noticed the look on his face and the tears on his cheeks. "Spencer? What's wrong?" The man looked almost genuinely worried – even in his current emotional turmoil Spencer noticed that something was off with how the doctor's eyes looked. Or was he really going crazy?

What the hell was happening?

He tried to speak but it was impossible to even breathe properly. The sharp wheezing sounds that came sounded horrible even to his own ears.

Was he dying? Because it felt like he was.

From the corner of his eye he saw someone approaching him with a needle but wasn't fast enough to dodge it. Before his mind faded to black Spencer's eyes traveled towards the room's window. A snowstorm was approaching.

Something else blurred his eyes long before the drug did.

* * *

><p>Time lost its meaning, and Spencer found it hard to separate even mornings from nights. He was, however, fairly sure that it was night when he was startled awake by the sound of his room's door opening. It was so dark that he couldn't tell who the arrival was before Dr. Harris' voice spoke. "I'm sorry to wake you up but it's time to take a shower. It's ages from when you last took one."<p>

Spencer frowned, his head spinning and his skin crawling. He did _not_ want to dive into the dark, especially with the doctor. "But… It's night."

Dr. Harris chuckled. "No, Spencer, it isn't – it's a very early morning. Now come before you miss your turn."

Knowing full well how little choice he had Spencer obeyed. With stiff, reluctant steps he followed Dr. Harris through the dark. He hated the showers in this place – the water was always ice cold.

Dr. Harris opened the shower room's heavy door and signaled for him to enter. "Go and wait right there, alright?" The man smiled at him. "Don't look so worried, Spencer. You've done this a million times before. Everything's alright."

Spencer wanted to snort at that but managed to swallow it down. Instead he entered the room like the good patient he was expected to be, not sparing the doctor another glance.

In the room he froze momentarily with stun upon realizing that someone was already in there. Sitting on a long bench in the painfully white room was a man of his age. The stranger had long, dark hair that hung all over his face in a greasy mess, just failing to hide away his nearly black eyes. The man was trembling pitiably. It took a while before Spencer realized that the reek hanging in the room came from the other man.

Just then Dr. Harris' cell phone started ringing. The man frowned, clearly unhappy with the situation, then glanced towards him. "I have to take this. The door is locked but if you have any problems at all there's a nurse outside, alright? I'll be back as soon as I can."

Spencer nodded, barely managing to control himself and watched the doctor leave. As soon as Dr. Harris was gone he focused on the room's other occupant, his skin tingling with excitement. This was the first time they slipped and let him see another prisoner. "Hey, can you hear me?" There was no reaction but he didn't let that get him down. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I want to help you – they locked me up, too. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid."

To his surprise the other man's eyes widened before they flew to him. "Did you… Did you just say you're Spencer Reid?" The man looked around, clearly to make sure no inappropriate ears would hear, and licked his lips before whispering. "You're all over the TV, man. They're looking for you." It was easy to see how dilated the stranger's pupils were – it was quite clear that he had very little clue as to what the reality was. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit! This is big, man!"

Yes, Spencer understood that this man was a drug addict, one that'd gone very far down the worst possible road. He knew it was crazy to get carried away by this. But he was desperate – he needed this hope.

His eyes widened before he finally dared to breathe out the short, dangerous question. His voice shook. "What?"

The man opened his mouth but the answer was never heard. Because at that moment Dr. Harris entered with a unreadable look on his face. "Fez, I think it's time for another session." Something in the doctor's tone chilled Spencer. The older man's eyes were soon fixed on him. "It's your turn to now, Spencer."

He nodded numbly and got up although his body felt unnaturally heavy. It took all he had not to look over his shoulder as he approached the door separating him from the showers. He never realized that he didn't manage to breathe until the door was closed between them.

Still rattled by Fez's disturbing words Spencer began to take off his clothes, constantly having a very unpleasant feeling that he was being watched. Wary and self conscious he wrapped his arms around his naked torso. That's when he felt it, on the skin of his back.

He frowned, feeling even colder than he already had.

As much curious as he was startled he sauntered to the rather small mirror in the room's furthest corner. Swallowing hard he shifted so that the mirror showed the skin of his back. There was ice in his veins as the sight registered to him.

Clearly visible against his milky skin were deep, long wounds that'd already scarred, at least seven of them. He was no specialist but he was fairly sure they'd been made with a uneven blade. His back looked like a bizarre, sick map.

Spencer swallowed and wrapped his arms around himself once more, staring at the reflection of his deathly pale face. His eyes were wide and wild as they looked back at him.

What happened to him? Had he done this to himself, or did someone attack him?

What the hell was going on?

* * *

><p>'<em>So tonight I'm calling all astronauts<br>Calling lonely people that the world forgot  
>If you hear my voice come pick me up<br>Are you out there?  
>'Cause you're all I've got<em>'

(Simple Plan, 'Astronaut')

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><p>TBC, right?<p>

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><p>AN: You know… This chapter actually made my stomach twist (or then it's something I ate…). Weird, isn't it?

But seriously, poor Spencer! (winces) We're halfway through now and the mystery just keeps growing thicker.

**PLEASE**, leave a review – let me hear ya guys out! You can't even imagine how good it feels to write knowing you're out there. So… Pwease…? (gives her sweetest smile)

IN THE NEXT ONE: Dr. Harris pushes Reid through even more, claiming that it's all in the name of healing. Random flashbacks tear him in two. As his mind begans to crumble, though, Reid sees something that makes everything turn upside down.

C ya with the next one, I hope! (glances hopefully)

Take care!

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><p><strong>secret agent person<strong>: A cruel twist, no? (winces) BUT, I'm glad those little things are satisfied; it looks like I'm safe for now. (smirks, then blushes and grins from ear to ear) DAMN, how flattered I am to hear you've enjoyed the story thus far so much!

Gigantic thank yous for the AMAZING review!

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><p><strong>Hatsuharu M<strong>: It'd be so good if this was all a bad dream, no? (winces) Gosh, this must be tearing him up inside! Let's hope this all gets sorted out soon.

Colossal thank yous for the review!


	6. Voices

A/N: It's Halloween! (Isn't it? Officially, I mean. Around here we won't be celebrating until next weekend.) And I'm back with a new chapter. (grins) Whether that's special treat or not is for you to decide.

BUT, before getting started… THANK YOU, so much, for those fabulous reviews! Man, it feels so good to write when I know you're out there waiting. (beams, and HUGS) So thank you!

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) Because I don't think there's any real point in stalling let's get moving. I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the ride!

**SONG INSPIRATION**: 'Voices' from Disturbed fits this pretty dang well. (I'm in the mood for a bit harder rock.) (grins)

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><p>Voices<p>

* * *

><p> _"_Do you hear me, Spencer? You can't do that ever, ever again. You need to listen to your mother. Those people are going to find a way to take you away from me, do you understand? You can't talk to them ever again._"_

_Startled awake Spencer came to in the team's jet, with familiar scents and sounds wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He spent a long moment just savoring all the comforting familiarity before forcing his eyes halfway open – and almost squeaked with startle when finding Derek Morgan standing almost right before him._

_The older man gave him a slight smile. "'Sorry if I scared you. I was planning on waking you up – we're about to land."_

_Spencer frowned and rubbed his face with one hand, trying to wake up. "But… Weren't we supposed to talk about the case during the flight?"_

_"We did, but don't worry about it. With how fast you read it'll take you less than ten minutes to catch up." Derek observed his face for a second, appearing worried and thoughtful. "I'm taking that as your headache finally disappeared?"_

_Spencer's eyebrows furrowed. Sure, his head felt better, but there was still something that didn't feel quite right. Or maybe he was just drowsy. "Yeah, I guess", he murmured._

_Derek nodded towards the main part of the jet and it was around then Spencer registered the sounds of landing. "Try to wake yourself up, okay? We've gotta put on the seatbelts."_

_While they started landing Spencer's head began to feel a little bit more normal as sleep faded away. He turned his eyes towards the window, watching how they kept approaching the ground. For some reason a nagging bad feeling began to swell in his stomach._

_Derek's voice pulled him to the present. "You were mumbling in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?"_

_Once again Spencer frowned, finally coming to a conclusion that unnerved him. "I… don't remember." And it bothered him a lot more than it should've._

_Derek chuckled. "Well how about that. There _is_ the first time for everything."_ /

* * *

><p>Spencer frowned, opening his eyes halfway to meet his tiny room's ceiling.<p>

Those visions… What were they? They felt too real to be hallucinations. Memories, perhaps? If they were memories why was he never allowed to see the full story?

Lay on his extremely uncomfortable bed Spencer closed his eyes again, trying his hardest to relax his overstrained body.

Unfortunately relaxing wasn't a luxury granted to him. Because as soon as he closed his eyes the voices began.

Screams, howls… Someone's pained cries, coming from a location he couldn't name.

Spencer's whole body started trembling uncontrollably as his head intensified the sounds, allowed them to seep to the core of his being. Or did they come from his head?

_No._ Someone was in _pain_ – someone was suffering. And all he could do was listen. He even brought his hands to his ears but it didn't help. The wrenching sounds resonated in his mind.

What was Dr. Harris doing to them? What the hell was going on?

Spencer wondered how worrying it was that felt a wave of relief when Dr. Harris barged into the room with a openly worried expression. "Spencer, what's wrong?"

Spencer gasped, feeling like his lungs were failing him. He didn't care if despair radiated from his eyes as he looked at the doctor. "Please", he whimpered, swallowing hard. The horrendous taste didn't go anywhere, nor did the lump in his throat. "They… Can't you hear how much pain they're in? Help them – let them go! Please… Stop hurting them!"

"Spencer." There was a strange look in Dr. Harris' eyes he couldn't quite name. The man looked directly to his eyes. "I'm sorry, but… There are no voices here. I can't hear anything."

Spencer's eyes stung and itched, and he emitted a choked sound that reminded him of a sob. Goddamnit, he was so tired of this…! He couldn't take this anymore. "Please", he pleaded in a barely audible, pained voice. Completely forgetting the fact that he didn't have pretty much any hair anymore he put a hand to his head, starting to rock himself. It didn't help. "Please, make them stop. Let us out of here."

He had no idea what they gave him but it swept him under in a matter of seconds. And he had a dream, such that felt so much like something more that it chilled him.

* * *

><p> _It was just a routine investigation. At least five people had died in that house but nonetheless it was just Spencer's job, nothing more. That's why he couldn't understand the nagging warning in the back of his head._

_Making his way through a long and narrow, almost dark basement's hallway Spencer snorted. If Derek knew of his fears the man would never let him live it down._

_He coughed, the foul smelling, dust filled air irritating his lungs._

_He was ripped from his thoughts when Aaron's voice came through the walkie talkie he was carrying around. "_Have you found anything?_"_

_Spencer took a deep breath, trying to ease his completely tensed up body. It didn't work. "Not yet, but there's still one more hallway left. If…" He trailed off and froze._

_He was standing above stairs he hadn't even noticed before. Below the stairs he saw a heavy looking door, from underneath which a beam of lights streamed. And then he heard the music. It was smooth and pleasant, and although it was quiet he could pinpoint a lot of cello._

_"_Reid?_" If he hadn't known better he would've said that Aaron sounded worried. "_What's going on down there?_"_

_Reid swallowed, staring at the ray of light. He approached it, pulled like a moth to a flame. "I don't know", he admitted in a near whisper, taking a yet another step although all his instincts screamed against it._

_"_Reid?_"_

_And then the lights went out, leaving him into utter, all consuming darkness. _/

* * *

><p>Sleeping became impossible. Whether Spencer was asleep or awake the flashes – memories, hallucinations, whatever they were – bombarded his head. And if they didn't there were those horrendous screams. In the end he found himself scared to death that he was actually going to lose his mind.<p>

He _had to_ get out, before this place would crush him for good.

But it appeared Dr. Harris didn't agree. If anything the treatment methods became more aggressive, both mentally and physically.

Inevitably Dr. Harris noticed that the drugs didn't affect him at all anymore, which meant the dosages were kicked even higher and far more frequent. Eventually, when he was coherent enough to think so clearly, Spencer was afraid that all the drugs in his system might make his body shut down altogether.

Dr. Harris also made the decision to give up on ECT, since it only made him feel sick. That might've been good news if alternative treatment methods hadn't appeared.

When none of the more widely scientifically approved methods worked Dr. Harris ended up using hypnotherapy. It took less than twenty minutes to discover that it was a very, very bad decision. During what was most definitely amongst the longest hours of Spencer's life he experienced _everything_.

His mother's illness, the helpless terror it planted into him when he was a child and couldn't understand what was going on.

His father abandoning them.

The torture he went through in school.

Tobias Hankel.

The drugs.

Watching Benjamin Cyrus drag Emily away, with no certainty that he was going to see her alive ever again.

Getting shot.

Feeling his very life leaving him.

The experience was so intense that his body rendered into a state of shock. Later on he had no idea of the following three days, but when his mind was working at least somewhat properly again he found himself restrained to his bed.

That night he cried himself to sleep, with only the voices – real or not – keeping him company. For the first time he felt a real temptation to give up.

It must've been at least a week later when he woke up in the dead of night to the sound of his room's door opening. Before he could even push himself to a sitting position there were hands all over him, restraining him and hauling him out of the bed's questionable safety. In the shadows he managed to make out the outlines of the two male nurses who'd become all too familiar to him.

Spencer's eyes were wide and filled with panic as he struggled the best as he could despite the fact that his gaunt frame barely had the energy for standing up. "What is this?" he asked in a sharp, terror filled voice he couldn't recognize. "What… What are you doing to me?"

The bigger one of the nurses – Chris, wasn't it? – fixed a stern look at him. "Since nothing else is working it's time to try a different form of treatment."

Fear had consumed all of Spencer by the time they paused behind the pool section's heavy door and he was guided to the back. Waiting for them was a pool the water of which radiated cold even to where Spencer stood.

Spencer's eyes widened while his heartbeat shot up, his heart leaping to his throat.

He'd read about ice baths having been used in psychiatric care during past, horrific times. Never, not even in his worst nightmares…

He actually felt all color drain from his face as he shook his head frantically. "No! You can't do this to me! You can't…!" His voice died out.

He was granted no mercy. Hands pushed him towards the dangerous looking dark depths. "This is only for your own good, do you understand? This is for the sake of your health."

Then, quite possibly in the last minute, the room's door opened and Dr. Harris marched in. The man's eyes widened when he saw them. "What are you doing?" the doctor snarled. "Didn't I tell you…?"

Spencer never got the chance to hear the rest. For just then Chris' hold on him broke and he fell, straigth into the frosty water. The water pulled him under instantly, the weight of his clothes and limbs turning out to be too much for him. The icy water stole his breath and cold paralyzed absolutely all of him. He sunk straigth towards the pool's deep end.

He opened his mouth – to scream for help, the holler out all his fear and frustration. In the process he managed to suck his lungs full of water. Even his mind began to turn blank. All that made sense to him was the cold and how his lungs screamed after precious air.

Spencer was almost sure that he stopped breathing altogether for a endlessly long moment. And then, through a hue of white, a new flash appeared.

* * *

><p> _"Hey, can you hear me?"_

_Spencer frowned but couldn't open his eyes or move a muscle. That man's voice… He couldn't recognize it._

_Why was he feeling like he'd just been run over by a truck? What was happening?_

_"Hey, kid! If you're with me squeeze my hand, okay?" Apparently he succeeded because he heard a faint pleased sound. "Good, good. I called an ambulance – help is on the way. But you need to open your eyes. Can you do that?"_

_It was much, much harder than it should've been but in the end Spencer succeeded. At first all he could see was blur but then shapes and colors began to sharpen. In the end he found himself staring into the face of a clearly underweighed sixty-years-old man who had pale face, grey eyes and barely any light brown hair left._

_The man was examining him with a great deal of worry. "That's the spirit. Do you think you can sit up?"_

_He nodded carefully and found himself hissing in pain when the man helped him sit. Apparently there was something wrong with his back. Maybe he'd been in a car accident?_

_Why couldn't he remember?_

_He swallowed with some difficulty and blinked, trying to find his voice. "Wha… What happened?" he managed to wheeze raspily._

_The stranger appeared somewhat hesitant to answer, even scared. __"I… __I honestly don't know." The man nodded towards him. "I just… found you, like this. I was sort of hoping you could tell me what's going on."_

_Slowly, unwillingly, Spencer lowered his eyes. His heart and bloodstream stopped for a dangerously long moment._

_He was completely, utterly naked. Usually he would've been humiliated beyond any belief but as it was his attention was stolen by other matters. For there was blood all over him – on his chest, stomach, arms, hands and legs. And there wasn't a scratch on him._

_He swallowed, fearing that he might throw up. His body began to shake uncontrollably._

_What the hell was going on? What had he done?_

_Due to the state of shock he didn't hear a car pull over, nor did he hear the steps approaching him. He barely even registered the voice that spoke a while later. "Has there been an accident? I'm a doctor…"_ /

* * *

><p>Spencer developed a high fever after the pool events, which made it even harder to separate reality from illusions.<p>

Since he was a child he'd had a nasty habit of starting to hallucinate whenever his fever spiked up. It hadn't changed now that he'd grown up. Despite the fact that he was far from coherent he knew that Dr. Harris had to medicate him several times when the shadows in his room began whispering to him and attacking him. The monsters he saw made him scream out loud and due to his past there were hundreds of them.

In one of the worst tricks of his mind Tobias Hankel – or was it Raphael? – was sitting right at his bedside, staring at him with empty eyes. The ghost's entire shirt was covered in blood, and some red stained Tobias' teeth when the man whispered to him. "Don't look so scared. Dying isn't a horrible experience."

That night the staff had to sedate him to a point of unconsciousness.

One extremely cold morning of winter Spencer was still weak but already on his way to recovery when he opened his eyes, for the first time in ages waking up completely on his own.

He frowned. Usually Dr. Harris came in the morning to wake him up and to make sure he put at least something into his mouth. If for nothing else then to give him his daily injection. Something was off.

His feet were extremely weak as he scrambled out of the bed and followed his instincts, making his way to the room's window. At first all the snow blinded him, but then his eyes sharpened to see two figures.

And everything inside him froze.

Derek and Aaron were right there on the parking lot, walking away from the hospital. They both looked throughoutly exhausted and more tense than any violin's strings. Aaron appeared at least ten years older than the last time he saw the man. But Spencer believed, with all his heart and soul, that they were _there_, right before his eyes. And they were walking away.

Spencer's eyes widened and his heart hammered so hard that he feared it might jump out of his chest. "I'm here!" he shrieked. Tears filled his eyes when the men kept walking away. "Morgan! Hotch! I'm here!"

For a moment, perhaps two, Derek did stop with a frown, looking around. But then Aaron said something to the man and Derek nodded, then followed the unit chief to a car.

Tears streamed down Spencer's cheeks when he screamed although his voice had long since faded away. "Don't go, please…! Morgan! Hotch!"

He was so worked up by the sight that he didn't notice the shadow approaching him until something struck his neck. His eyes widened, then began to close despite his best efforts. He wasn't sure if it was tears or the substance injected to him that blurred his vision.

He whimpered, slumping against the person stood behind him.

"Shh… They were just here to ask how you were doing, okay? That's all", a voice that sounded like a mixture of JJ's and Dr. Harris' whispered to his ear. A soothing hand stroked his cheek. "Shh… It'll be alright. Just calm down."

The last thing Spencer saw before darkness engulfed him was the already empty parking lot.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p>AN: FINALLY a glimpse of the rest of the team! But seriously, what the heck is all this?

**PLEASE,** leave a review to let me know your thoughts! C'mon, guys. It's Halloween time – I'm still debuting if I'm giving tricks or treats… (smirks and winks)

IN THE NEXT ONE: After all the twists and turns Reid finally finds out what's really going on. What does he do when the truth sinks in?

**FOUR MORE TO GO!**

I really hope I'll c ya all next time!

Take care, and have a great Halloween (what there's left of it, really…)!

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><p><strong>Hatsuharu M<strong>: Let's really, REALLY hope so. Because this all must be tearing him to pieces. (winces)

Gigantic thank yous for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>ella<strong>: Man, how ecstatic I am to hear that! (beams)

I really hope the update turns out worthy of your expectations.

HUGE thank yous for the review!


	7. New Divide

A/N: Again, happy Halloween! (It's finally d-day around here.) (grins) I bet you'd all like to jump right in to the story to get the long awaited answers, but first…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews! (glomps) You guys rock, ya know? You can't even imagine how much your support has helped me with creating this story. So thank you!

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) Because you've been waiting for the answers for a very long time, I think it's 'bout time to get to them, no? I REALLY hope you'll enjoy this part of the race.

SONG INSPIRATION: 'New Divide' from Linkin Park. I know it's no obvious choice, but I think the lyrics match pretty well. (grins)

* * *

><p>New Divide<p>

* * *

><p> _"Wake up, Spencer", a unrecognizable man's voice whispered to his ear. Everything was buzzing and spinning in his head. And his head hurt, so much that he emitted a whimper. He shivered when a hand stroked his cheek. "Wake up. I want to play with you."_

_He tried to open his eyes, tried with all his might, but there was something blocking his line of vision. _

_His heart began to race as such terror that paralyzed him crashed over him in waves, stealing away his very breath. His mouth opened but the only thing that came out was a barely audible, tiny wheeze._

_What the heck was going on?_

_And then came the pain, radiating from both his cheeks with such intensity that he would've definitely fallen to the floor if he hadn't been tied up. A blade slashed through, sliding forward like his skin had been butter._

_Finally finding his voice Spencer screamed at the top of his lungs._

_A dark chuckle met his ears. "Scream all you want – no one is going to hear you." Whoever tortured him leaned so close to his ear that he felt a warm breath. "Let me tell you a little secret, Spencer. None of this is real."_ /

* * *

><p>Spencer breathed in deep once, twice, thrice, his face buried into his shaking hands. His poor heart was pushing itself to such a beat that he feared it might not be able to do its job for long.<p>

These flashes… They were memories, weren't they? As much as he wanted to – _needed to_ – know what was going on he really wanted these flashes to stop. If he ever wanted to get out of this hellhole he couldn't sink into the world inside his head several times a day.

He emitted a choked sound, lifting his gaze towards the room's ceiling.

Where the hell was the camera? Was Dr. Harris watching him at this very moment, scanning through the lines and traces of emotions on his face?

That trail of thought became cut when the room's door opened. Dr. Harris stood by the room's doorway with a unreadable expression on his face. "Are you feeling better today, Spencer?"

Spencer nodded. "I am." Since seeing Derek and Aaron – since realizing that there might still be a life worth fighting for waiting for him – he'd become better at playing his part. He was, in fact, good enough to convince Dr. Harris into lowering the dosage of drugs given to him.

After the eternity he'd spent locked up into this place he was finally learning the rules.

Dr. Harris nodded back. It was impossible to tell if the man believed him. "I'd like to see you in my office today. I think I've figured out a new way to approach your case."

Spencer shivered. Those words made him feel extremely cold inside.

A new approach? So the doctor was on to him, after all. Or perhaps this was some sort of sick test. Either way he couldn't afford to let his expression waver.

The soundless powerstruggle between them was never resolved, for just then the room's door opened. The smaller one of the place's male nurses, a man who looked disturbingly lot like a young David Rossi, stood by the doorway.

Dr. Harris gave the nurse a clearly irritated look. "What now?" the doctor half snarled.

The nurse didn't appear taken aback by the tone. "We have a… situation. Code five."

Under different circumstances Spencer might've given himself the permission to frown. He'd heard those words before.

Dr. Harris clearly had a huge fight with himself before the man looked at him. "I'll be back soon, alright? Then we can finish this conversation." With that the doctor began to leave the room. On his leave the man shot a glance towards the nurse. "Keep him company, alright?"

The nurse nodded somewhat stiffly. Exactly ten seconds after the doctor was gone the man's eyes shifted towards him. "You don't have long. If you want to leave, I'd suggest you do it now."

Spencer's eyes widened as disbelief and desperate hope swell inside him. "What… are you talking about?"

The nurse's jaw tightened. "This is your only chance to get out, Spencer. Don't waste it."

Spencer swallowed, still somewhat hesitant. How could he know that this wasn't just a trick? Could he really trust this kick of good luck?

The nurse's eyes narrowed. "Run, now! Don't you understand that you don't have a second to waste? Just go!"

Spencer frowned. He wanted to leave with all his heart but something nailed him to the spot. "What about you?"

The other man's eyes darkened. "Just go, will you? So I'll be able to sleep properly for once in my life."

With the emotional turmoil he was in Spencer paid barely any mind to those words. In the end his desire for freedom overcame absolutely everything else. And so he turned and ran although a voice in the back of his head screamed against it.

He ran through a dark, stone walled hallway after another for so long that eventually he was almost sure he was running around in circles. That was before he ended up to a visibly heavy, metallic door he'd never seen before. This door had no code box, no switch to open it. All he could see was a keyhole.

He froze and swallowed, panic striking him numb. Whatever hope there'd been in him before faded away.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Are you looking for this, Spencer?" Turning slowly towards the all too familiar voice he found Dr. Harris. The man showed him a key that was attached to a metal chain. There was a tight, sad expression on the doctor's face. "I really wish you hadn't done that."

Spencer was so focused on the doctor that he didn't notice the door behind him was opening before it was too late. He gasped, perhaps even whimpered, when all of a sudden feeling a stinging sensation on his neck. A needle, he realized with sickening certainty. Through the corner of his eye he saw nurse Chris who was stood directly behind him.

As he slumped to the floor, with black jumping on him from every possible direction, Spencer wondered sullenly if he was ever going to get out of this place.

With that dark thought he sunk under, and dreamt.

* * *

><p> _Spencer had absolutely no idea of how long he'd been asleep when his eyes finally agreed to flutter open on his command. In an instant he wished he'd stayed asleep._

_He couldn't move a muscle, couldn't even lift his head or curl his fingers._

_"I'm sorry I had to medicate you, but I'm sure you understand why I couldn't take any chances." Suddenly there were hands on him, propping him to a sitting position. "I wouldn't want you to miss this part of the nightmare, though."_

_And then he saw her. Sitting what couldn't be more than a step away from him was a woman who had a bag covering her head. Her long, blond hair that fell past her shoulders had some red stains on them. Her hands and ankles were bound to a chair although she wasn't fighting much. The wrenching sounds of her sobs met his ears, smashing his heart to pieces. Perhaps she could sense that their captor, a man who was still hidden by shadows, moved closer to her._

_Spencer's eyes widened while his heart began to beat dangerously fast. His mouth went completely dry while all warmth abandoned him. If he'd been able to he would've most definitely screamed out loud._

NO! No, no, no, no….

_There was a chuckle as the person in the shadows lifted what looked suspiciously lot like a hammer. "Why do you look so scared, Spencer? This is nothing but a bad dream. Isn't that what you've been telling yourself? It's only a matter of time before you'll wake up."_

_Despite the fact that he'd been a atheist for most of his life Spencer prayed, from the bottom of his heart and soul, that he'd wake up. That he'd open his eyes once more and this would all be gone, all over._

_He wasn't that lucky._

_"Do you know how easy it is to break a human body?" the man asked him. "Or a human mind?"_

_The woman started crying harder and mumbling something incomprehensible, clearly feeling what was going on. She was shivering uncontrollably, like she'd known that in a matter of moments she'd be dead. Tears filled Spencer's eyes when the hammer went down, again and again, and the woman's blood sprayed all over him._

_She stopped crying, he could tell even with his eyes blinded by tears._

_Perhaps Spencer wasn't screaming out loud. But on the inside he was _howling_. _/

* * *

><p>The nightmare floated away to make room for another, even worse one. With severe difficulty Spencer opened his eyes – to realize that he was once again strapped to his bed.<p>

His eyes flew wide while his breathing turned into wheezing gasps.

Oh no, hell no…! This couldn't be happening again, not when he'd been so close to getting out. Not when…

"So you're finally awake?" Dr. Harris' face appeared suspiciously blurry to his eyes as the man hovered above him. "Don't look so scared, Spencer. It's just the drug doing tricks to your head – I'm afraid the dosage was quite strong."

"Please…", Spencer managed in a pitiable, raspy tone. He twisted his wrists to no avail. Apparently they'd been persistent to keep him put this time. His eyes stung for a moment as a wave of helplessness crashed through him. "Let me loose… Please…!"

His eyesight was slightly clearer by then, so he could tell Dr. Harris looked at him directly to eyes. The man sighed. "You know I can't do that. You just proved to me that you can't be trusted, Spencer. That you're not feeling any better. I can't take any more risks."

One tear traveled down Spencer's cheek while he struggled the best as his drug clouded head allowed him to. There was no getting away from this. He was completely under Dr. Harris' mercy now.

He swallowed, looking at the doctor once more. "I… I know they're not dreams, or hallucinations." The words dropped against his better judgement, before he could control his tongue. "I know they're all real. I _know_ something happened to me." Those were the words of a desperate man, bargaining for the sake of his very life and sanity. He was willing to put _anything _on the line to get out of this hell. His eyes blurred once more and for a moment he feared he'd collapse. He couldn't do that, not now, not when there was so much at stake. "Someone… Someone did things to me – I'm not crazy. Please, you have to believe me."

To his stun Dr. Harris nodded with a utterly calm expression he'd never seen before. "I do believe you, Spencer. I know exactly what you've gone through."

Spencer frowned, his brain not working fast enough. And then the flash of a memory came.

The final piece of the puzzle slid into place.

* * *

><p> _Spencer couldn't breathe as he stared at the woman's clearly dead body, still sitting there before him._

_She was dead. She'd been killed right before his eyes. And although he hadn't lifted the hammer he couldn't help feeling like this was all his fault._

_The drug's affects finally easing slightly he gagged dryly but didn't throw up. The pressure his gagging reflex put on his body made his already ailing lungs feel like they'd been set on fire. He could feel a couple of tears making their way down his cheeks._

_A nightmare, nothing but a nightmare. Just a sick illusion created by his head. That's what this was. Just a bad dream._

_So why the hell wasn't he waking up already?_

_"Just keep breathing, Spencer", his captor advised him. "It would be a great disappointment if you'd break down this early on."_

_Spencer swallowed hard even though a new lump immediately formed into his throat. His eyes itched but he wasn't crying._

_What was going on? What did this man want from him?_

_His captor didn't speak. Instead the man kneeled down to his level, so that they were finally eye to eye._

_Spencer stared right at the face of a man he'd soon know as Dr. Daniel Harris._ /

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><p>Spencer's eyes widened as he stared at Dr. Harris' eyes. Finally, <em>finally<em> he understood. And he almost wished he hadn't. "You", he rasped, dark hue creeping in through the edges of his vision. He had to fight to keep his head clear. A gulp did nothing to take away the foul, coppery taste in his mouth.

Dr. Harris nodded with chilling calmness, observing his face. "Yes." The doctor started to prepare an injection. "When your team came to investigate my hideout I noticed you right away – you were the perfect candidate for my experiment."

Spencer frowned, desperately trying to buy himself some more time. "Experiment?" His voice sounded far too slurred to his liking.

Dr. Harris examined the substance he was working with. "I'm sure you understand that you're not my first guest." The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "You can't even imagine how furious I was when your team appeared and got onto my tails. But then I saw you." The doctor smiled in a chilling, almost serene way. "I've always believed that there's a meaning for everything, you see?"

Spencer shivered. So that's what he was? A test subject? The thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

Dr. Harris growled, giving the injection the finishing touches. "You just had to call your boss from my office, didn't you? You just had to mess things up." The doctor turned towards him, a dark look in his eyes. Shadows fell on the needle in his hand, making the liquid in it look black. "Now I have no other choice but to terminate the experiment."

Spencer felt colder than ever in his life and he could've sworn his lungs collapsed under the weight that fell on his chest. The sickening taste of blood filled his mouth.

With a chilling amount of clarity Spencer realized that he was going to die.

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><p>TBC, for a little bit<p>

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><p>AN: So the answers are finally here. The question goes, how will things turn out from hereon? (sweatdrops and gulps)

Awkay, because I have a sudden urge to flee before things will be thrown… (backs away slowly) **PLEASE**, do leave a note – let me hear you out! It'd seriously mean the world to me. (gives one's best puppy dog eyes)

IN THE NEXT ONE: The answers are out, but Reid's nightmare is far from over. Will help arrive, or is it already too late?

Until next time, folks! I really hope I'll c ya all then.

Peace out!

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><p><strong>melkyre<strong>: That's unbelievably good to hear. (grins from ear to ear)

Colossal thank yous for the review!


	8. Spring

A/N: This is scary, really. I sat down and wrote this chapter on basically one sitting. That NEVER happens. (shudders) 'Wonder what it says about the quality… (sweatdrops) But hey, at least you got a pretty early update. Hooray?

FIRST OF ALL, though… THANK YOU, so much, for all those reviews! Gosh, this story has received so much love. Take a look at that number up above! (beams) You guys are really precious. Thank you! (GLOMPS)

Awkay, before I get all too mushy and gushy… Let's go, eh? (swallows hard) I REALLY hope this ride turns out worth joining in.

SONG INSPIRATION: 'Spring' from Rammstein was a surprisingly befitting option. Read the lyrics and think of Dr. Harris' POV. (smirks)

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><p>Spring (Jump)<p>

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><p>Dr. Harris' steps were slow and confident but by no means calm as the man approached Spencer, a needle drawn and a dangerous look in his eyes. "Once I give you this injection it's going to take only ten minutes before you die. You'll be unconscious, so it's fast and painless. All you'll feel is the sting and your heart rate quickening."<p>

Spencer inhaled sharply, hungrily, only then realizing that he hadn't been breathing for a while. His eyes were stinging hellishly but he refused to shed a tear. "Please… Don't do this." To his surprise his voice was strong. He swallowed against the blockage in his throat. "I… I'm a federal agent. You'll…"

Dr. Harris shook his head with a chilling smile. "No, Spencer. Not if I won't even be caught. I'm not letting them find me."

Spencer didn't speak, instead gritted his teeth together. His team… Would they ever find Dr. Harris, after…? Did they have enough pieces of the puzzle? Would they forgive him for failing?

Dr. Harris sighed, already stood beside him. "Your mind is such a beautiful thing. You could've become my masterpiece." The needle was already raised. The doctor's eyes were hazy, like he'd seen something else entirely. "But don't worry – I'll do much better next time. You've taught me a lot."

The needle was only millimetres away from his skin and Spencer's poor heart had completely forgotten how it was supposed to work. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, desperately trying to remind himself to keep breathing. His brain buzzed frantically, futilely attempting to come up with _anything_ that would've helped him out of this desperate situation. Instead his head produced a set of slightly overlighted flashes.

It's said that as death is only seconds away one sees their life flashing before their eyes. After Hankel Spencer should've remembered it to be true.

He remembered how David was there beside him when he allowed himself to be hypnotized in order to find out what his father had done.

He remembered perfectly the warmth of Penelope's embrace when she hugged him.

He remembered how Aaron came to him, a lifetime ago, once they'd escaped from the hands of a UnSub after Aaron had kicked him. But his mind didn't focus on the painful bruises – he focused on how he was allowed to keep the gun in his hands. He'd never felt so accepted in his life, like he was exactly where he belonged. And it felt _good_.

He remembered how Emily hugged him after the Cyrus nightmare, like she never wanted to let go. He held her back, for a fleeting moment letting her closer than he'd ever let anyone.

He remembered, so well that it almost startled him, how it felt to hold his hand on JJ's swollen bump, to feel the new life growing inside. But better than anything he remembered the glow on her face.

He remembered how Derek pulled him out of a violent nightmare, as well as all those countless other incidents when the man had been there to protect him. It was thanks to Derek he could somewhat understand what it was like to have a brother.

And of course he remembered his mother, above everything all those times he'd listened to her reading to him. He was all she had, he realized with chilling certainty, and couldn't stop himself from wondering how she'd do without him.

He was lucky to have so many people care about him, wasn't he? He hoped from the bottom of his heart that they knew how much he cared about them, too.

And then the stream ended, to the sound of a loud thud. Spencer's startled eyes flew open to meet the smaller male nurse. There was a stone hard, determined expression on the man's face and a metal bar held in his hands. Dr. Harris lay on the floor, unconscious.

Spencer swallowed, having absolutely no clue how to react to this unexpected turn of things. The previous kick of luck had backfired – could he trust this one?

Without saying a word the nurse began to work on his restraints with badly unsteady hands. He could see sweatdrops on the man's forehead while the nurse licked his lips, breathing loudly.

Finally Spencer managed to produce a barely audible "Why?".

The nurse looked at him with eyes that spoke far more than his drug-filled head managed to catch. "Because… Because I want to believe that I still have a choice."

Spencer nodded slowly. "Thank you."

The nurse simply nodded back. By then Spencer was free to go. The other man helped him to a sitting position, then made sure he was able to stand before letting go completely.

Spencer knew he should've started running, that it was only a matter of time before nurse Chris would show up or Dr. Harris would wake up. But something rooted him to the spot. For one last time he looked at the nurse, swallowing thickly. "I don't even know your name", he mused out loud.

The nurse shrugged. "Maybe it's better that way." The man then nodded towards the room's open door, his features sharpening considerably. "Now get going while you still can. I don't think you have a lot of time."

For a second more Spencer kept looking at the nurse, then turned and started running the best as he could although a voice in the back of his head screamed at him to stop, to wait until…

Forcefully pushing his thoughts to a less dangerous track he fought to make his disoriented head work on figuring out which way he should go. After a while his brain actually shot out one option for getting away from the labyrinth of hallways. For once in his life Spencer didn't hesitate, instead dashed into a hallway he'd never even seen before.

His breath hitched for a moment and his eyes stung when he heard a distant bang, such he recognized far too easily. He was fairly sure it wasn't the drugs that made him feel unbearably cold and sick to his stomach.

And then he stumbled down, giving a tiny cry of pain when he crashed to the floor. He wanted to kick himself when he discovered what'd brought him down.

A trap wire. He'd stumbled on a damn trap wire.

"Did you honestly think that we'd just let you run away? That Dr. Harris and I wouldn't have thought of this option?" Chris' steps approached him and before he managed to haul his impossibly heavy body up the man was already kneeling above him. One of the nurse's hands, placed directly to his throat, pinned him to the floor while the other held a gun to his head. There was a inferno in Chris' eyes and the man's pupils were dilated. It didn't take a lot to notice that he was high. The nurse's loud breaths came out unevenly. "I'm going to fucking kill you, do you hear me? I'll put you out of your misery right here, right now."

Spencer swallowed, dizzy and out of breath. Had he hit head head while falling or was Chris squeezing too tight? Or was it the drugs? "Please…", he wheezed, struggling to pull in a feeble breath. His throat was _burning_. "I… I can help you. Just… Don't do this. Let me help."

Chris stared at him for a moment, then snorted. "Give me even one good reason to believe you." The man's finger tightened on the trigger.

Spencer gritted his teeth, forced his entire body to its extreme and _moved_. He'd never kicked as hard as he did right then, his knee slamming into Chris' stomach with such force that the stunned man flew backwards. He wasted no time. As rapidly as he could he scrambled up from the floor and started running, his heart hammering close to his throat.

He heard Chris gasp loudly and hiss. "You fucking son of a bitch…! I'll make you pay for that one!"

A set of gunshots echoed through the hallway as Spencer ran but he didn't dare to cast a glance backwards.

As long as he was able to move he would. If he ever wanted this horror story to end…

His spinning thoughts tangling together he froze before a locked door, cold filling him for a moment. Then he noticed the code box.

If this would work…

His finger shook pitiably as he typed in the number, only the fact that he could barely breathe keeping him from holding his breath. He came dangerously close to bursting into tears of relief when the light he was staring at turned from red to green.

In the second that followed he thanked every single deity his head could come up with.

Spencer barged blindly through the door and dashed down the stairs, his breaths coming out in wheezing pants and a searing sensation taking over his eyes as his abused muscles protested violently against the torment he was bringing on them. His heart was racing and he could barely breathe. Taste of blood filled his mouth and it wouldn't go away with swallowing. Facts registered to him in one sullen moment of clarity.

With such certainty that brought a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach Spencer realized that there was no way he'd be able to keep running any further. Lack of nutrition and all the drugs in his bloodstream… He wouldn't have needed even tenth of his IQ to realize that he'd been fighting a losing battle to begin with.

His legs dipped slightly before failing altogether, sending him heavily to the floor. He bit his lower lip so hard that he drew blood when his once shot leg protested against the violent change of position.

He would _not_ give Dr. Harris the satisfaction of him breaking down. He'd face this with whatever was left of his strength, courage and dignity.

Despite that resolve his heartbeat sprung out of control when he heard approaching steps and lifted his gaze slowly, reluctantly. Dr. Harris stood directly before him, looking at him with an expression he didn't manage to read. "I am truly sorry that it came to this, Spencer", the man said, as though speaking to the members of a deceased patient's family. And then, inevitably, the gun was raised at him.

The gunshot echoed in the hallway like an explosion and for a while Spencer was sure it'd blow up his eardrums.

But Spencer felt no pain. Instead he watched with wide, shock- and disbelief filled eyes how blood began to pour out from a gunshot wound close to the equally stunned doctor's neck. In a second, perhaps two, Dr. Harris fell to the floor.

That was when he met the extremely pale and tense, close to terrified face of JJ. He could've sworn that for several moments his heart _stopped_.

They stared at each other for a extremely long time, neither daring to believe their eyes. Then JJ was moving, faster than he was fully ready for it.

Nothing had ever felt as good as her arms did when she crushed him into a tight, breathtaking embrace, burying her face to his shoulder. It took longer than it should've before he realized that her whole body was trembling violently from heavy, loud sobs. She squeezed him like she would've never wanted to let him go again. "God, Spencer…! I'm sorry", she half-whimpered. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Spencer couldn't really understand why she was apologizing – they'd come, they were there, they were going to take him away from here. And to be honest he didn't even care. All that mattered to him was that she was there, alive and real.

She was alive. Alive. _Alive._

Spencer held on to her the best as he could, inhaled her familiar, soothing scent like a drowning man. He didn't give a damn about the tears on his cheeks.

It was finally over.

Feeling dizzy again he unleashed a shuddering sigh, sliding against JJ before he managed to control his body. It seemed he had no control over his own muscles anymore. How odd.

It clearly struck as odd to JJ, too. There was a frown on her tear marred face as she looked at him. "Spence? Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth to say 'Yes' but couldn't produce a sound. He wondered if he should've been worried about the fact that her face began to appear blurry before his eyes.

Why was it getting darker all of a sudden? Was someone turning off the lights?

"Spence?" JJ sounded frantic, now. Why? "Spencer, open your eyes."

Spencer hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes. With a lot more struggle than he'd expected he managed to coax them halfway open. He did so just in time to see JJ taking one of her shaking hands from behind his back to give it a look. Ice traveled through his veins when he saw his blood all over her hand.

Something happened to his breathing pattern. It didn't feel easy anymore, instead each inhale ached, brought flames underneath his ridcage. He moaned, clenching his eyes tightly shut.

"No, Spence, don't do that!" JJ's voice sounded so very distant. Maybe she was just a ghost, after all. Did that mean he'd get to see her again soon? "Spence!"

No matter how hard Spencer tried to hang on to her voice, to her touch, darkness swallowed him up in whole. And the most unnerving part was that it didn't scare him at all.

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><p>TBC, right, for a bit more<p>

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><p>AN: How's that for a twister? (groans and sweatdrops) I'm actually a bit exhausted after writing this. (I know, I know. Compared that you guys that's getting off easy, right? At least I know how this thing's going to turn out.)

Anywho… **PLEASE**, leave a review – let out absolutely all your thoughts on this! It'd seriously, SERIOUSLY make my day, especially since the next few days are going to be completely insane. (gives puppy's eyes)

IN THE NEXT ONE: Reid is out of Dr. Harris' hellhole, but not out of the woods. Will the team lose him just as they got him back?

ONLY TWO MORE TO GO!

Until next time, everyone! I REALLY hope ya'll all tune in then.

Take care!

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><p><strong>melkyre<strong>: Happens to me all the time, too! (chuckles) No problem.

Thank you so much for the message!

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><p><strong>secret agent person<strong>: Awww, don't worry! I can definitely relate. (groans) I'm just incredibly happy that you're back now – AND enjoying the ride. (beams)

Let's hope the team comes rushing in before it's hopelessly too late! (shudders)

Gigantic thank yous for the review!

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><p><strong>Marijke S Bush<strong>: It's heeeeere! (grins) 'Hope you'll enjoy it.

Massive thank yous for the review!


	9. The River

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took longer than usual to update, but I've had insanely busy few days! I've slept about four or five hours for several nights, so my head's even more of a mess than usual. (groans)

The chapter is now here, though! (beams) But before getting to it… THANK YOU, so much, for all that love and devotion! It really means a lot to me that you're out there waiting for each update. (BEAMS) Thank you! (HUGS)

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) Let's go, no? I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the ride!

SONG OF THE CHAPTER: 'The River' by Good Charlotte. I just love that song so much! (grins sheepishly)

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><p>The River<p>

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><p>It was a solid fact that Aaron Hotchner was good at hiding his emotions. But that particular day – as he stood in a previously carefully hidden surveillance room of Wellington Sanitarium, staring at the surveillance camera's footage on a small TV-screen – he felt a time bomb stirring inside him.<p>

He felt physically ill as he watched how Spencer fought back a nurse they now knew as Chris and _ran_, never even noticing how one of the bullets the nurse fired slammed into the tender flesh of his back.

Aaron looked away sharply, a foreign stinging sensation taking over his eyes. He found the quite pale chief of local police, Sharyan Miller, whose long brown hair appeared even messier than usual. She'd been helping them with this case from the beginning, so she was sadly aware of all the sick things they'd come across so far, but at the moment she appeared ready to vomit. There was a shaken look in her brown eyes.

"So this half of the hospital has been closed for the past five years?" he inquired, mostly because of a desperate need to hear something – _anything_ – other than his own screaming thoughts.

If he'd pause to think now…

Chief Miller nodded, folding her arms to her chest. "Yeah. It was shut down due to budget cuts five years ago. I don't think a lot of people remember it even exists anymore. It was the perfect opportunity for Dr. Harris and his gang."

It was Aaron's turn to nod. His throat felt a lot tighter than he would've considered comfortable.

That was why Derek and he didn't get a clue of Spencer when they first came to see Dr. Harris with questions of his patient, Fernando 'Fez' Lopez, who'd been discovered murdered. No one had told them of this closed half. It was sheer luck that chief Miller had managed to hint them towards the right direction later. At the moment he could only pray it hadn't been too late.

Aaron was so deep in thought that he shuddered slightly when David Rossi's cell phone started ringing behind him. "Excuse me…", the man mumbled, then left the room.

It took a very long moment before chief Miller spoke. "That agent of yours… It seems he's made it through hell already. He's a fighter. He's not going to give up now."

Aaron didn't respond, mostly because he couldn't produce a sound. He really, truly hoped she was right. Because if they'd lose Spencer after all this…

Fortunately that trail of thought was cut when a man who looked strikingly like a younger Derek marched into the room with slightly wide eyes. The man – Woodridge – appeared ready to pass out. "You… You should come and see the backyard. You won't believe it."

Exactly one second later David also entered the room. There was a look that chilled Aaron to the bone on his face. "It was JJ. Something's finally happening."

Aaron had only ever felt as torn as he did then with Haley. It hurt physically but he was all too aware of his duties, no matter how much he hated it sometimes.

His eyes most likely radiated a lot more than he would've wanted when he looked at David. "Call Prentiss and Morgan, then go to the hospital. I'll be there as soon as I can." He then focused on officer Woodridge. "Show us what you've got."

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><p>Derek Morgan's temper was no secret amongst those who knew him. That rapidly darkening evening, as he sat in a interrogation room of a police station right across the table from nurse Chris Strummer, he felt ready to <em>kill<em>.

Yes, he understood that Dr. Daniel Harris was the mastermind behind this horror story. That he'd known Chris and the other nurse – Luca Jones – since the three of them were little boys, that the undeniably brilliant yet sick man had been brainwashing the two others into helping him since. The earliest bits of information he'd seen showed the three of them torturing animals when they were six. He understood that the man before him was a sad, very sick individual who needed help.

But good heavens, if Derek had been allowed to…

Despite the fact that Derek had given Chris several definitely painful bruises during the arrest the man didn't seem hesitant to push his buttons even further. Instead the nurse fixed a crooked smile his way, tilting his head. "I bet it's killing you that you're not allowed to lay your hands on me, agent." The man then leaned closer, as though about to trust him with a great secret. "You know… I wasn't just a mindless puppet. Luca… That poor guy's parents chose alcohol and heroin over their own son. He was a easy target when Daniel gave him a little bit attention. I, on the other hand…" Chris glanced towards the file that lay on the table between them. It had the nurse's name written on the sticker on top of it. "You're aware of my history. I had good, loving parents. My father – may he rest in peace – never even raised his voice at me. But I knew I was different, from the start." The man tapped his own head with two fingers. "It's all in here, you know?"

Derek nodded stiffly, burning taking over his veins until he feared he might suffocate. "I see", he responded wryly.

Chris seemed to see how his frail resolve started crackling. The man's nostrils widened, almost quivered, and a pink tongue licked dry lips. "Spencer… Out of all our experiments he was my favorite. I've never seen anyone as infuriatingly stubborn. And when he kept running even after that bullet hit him…" The man sighed, his eyes practically rolling with delight. "It felt fantastic to watch. He was really something special."

At that very moment the little resolve Derek previously had exploded to pieces. Faster than Chris could even pull in a proper breath Derek had jumped over the table and taken the stunned nurse to the floor. He rammed his fist into Chris' face once, twice, thrice, getting a sick quiver of satisfaction upon seeing the trail of blood seeping from the nurse's nose. Then he curled the fingers of both his hands around the other man's neck and _squeezed_. "You… fucking son of a bitch…", he hissed. His breath hitched and his eyes were on fire. He couldn't be sure if a couple of tears spilled to his cheeks, didn't even care. "Don't… mention his name _ever_ again, do you hear? If you mention his name I'm going to fucking kill you."

Chris was already choking, his lips gaining a hint of blue. That was when the room's door was thrown open. Derek unleashed a nearly animalistic scream of protest when firm arms pulled him off of Chris and a safe distance away. "Morgan, cut it out! Get a hold of yourself – he's not worth it!" Somehow the sound of Emily Prentiss' familiar voice managed to cut the sharpest tip from his rage, despite the fact that she sounded ready to cry. The woman didn't dare to loosen the irony hold she had on him, though. "Take deep, even breaths. Calm down."

Derek did, only then becoming aware of the tears blurring his line of vision.

While getting examined by a young female officer named Kincaid, who had long blond hair and sharp blue eyes, Chris gave him a taunting look. "I'm going to sue your sorry ass."

Kincaid snorted, pressing on the nurse's bleeding nose a lot more roughly than would've been necessary. "Good luck with that. Because I didn't see a thing and the camera was off."

If Chris' look could've killed the officer would've lost her life at that moment.

With Chris' attention coaxed elsewhere Emily leaned closer to Derek's ear and whispered in a uncharacteristically unsteady tone. "I… I just got a call from Hotch." She swallowed loudly. "We should go to the hospital."

Derek's heart skipped several valuable beats while he swallowed despite the fact that his mouth had gone painfully dry.

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><p>Spencer's mind was unexpectedly slow to reach out towards the deafeningly loud world around him. There was beeping and talking, some sort of clattering. The TV seemed to be on.<p>

Spencer's head hurt like hell and he attempted to groan with displeasure – perhaps to even tell someone to quiet down the noises around him – but something was blocking his throat. That very realization, quickly followed by a sensation of suffocating, made his eyes fly open. He tried to scream with extreme displeasure when all the light and white assaulted his eyes.

"Reid, kid, calm down." Derek's voice was painfully loud but also familiar, reassuring. He clung to it with all his might, not even caring if it was for real or not. "Calm down. You're safe now, okay? You're safe and sound. I've got you." A hand squeezed his and after what felt like ages he pressed back.

Or tried to, at least. Because it looked like he couldn't hold on to anything.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. This time he was prepared for the assault of white and it didn't overwhelm him anymore. He took several minutes, staring at the white ceiling up above. It occurred to him that he recognized that sterile reek hanging thickly around him. Slowly yet surely his foggy brain began to register facts.

A hospital. He was in a real hospital. He was alive.

Somewhere at his right the infuriating beeping grew a lot more frantic and he winced, his stiff and numb fingers clenching on the bedsheets. Suddenly something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

In the furthest corner of the room a TV was on. Apparently there was a newsreport. His eyes widened and his chest tightened to a extend where it _hurt_.

The documentary footage… It was from Wellington Sanitarium. His whole body went numb from shock and terror as he stared at the familiar walls and windows, a violent flood of flashes spinning in his head. It felt like he was still inside his nightmare.

Then the footage's location changed and Spencer could've sworn his heart stopped although the violent beeping beside him told otherwise.

There were grave holes in a forest opening only a slight distance away from the hospital, dug open by the police. At least twenty-five of them. Dr. Harris had killed all those people and managed to do it so that no outsider had a clue.

Spencer felt a urge to throw up and his fingers twitched like he was convulsing.

The team… They'd only been examining five murders – for some reason Dr. Harris, or perhaps Chris, had dumped those bodies to a river. They'd never had the time to notice that so many people were also missing. To realize that…

Then another flash appeared to the TV screen and Spencer couldn't think at all anymore.

The TV showed a newspaper cover – and his picture was on it, although he could barely even recognize himself. A picture of him in the ICU. He was attached to a ventilator and what looked like a million tubes and vires. He appeared swollen from whatever medication they'd given him and his skin held a far from healthy color. His wide, frantic eyes locked on the words right beside the picture.

'…_the only survivor_…'

He shuddered with immense startle when the room's door opened and turned his gaze rapidly. In walked a doctor in her early thirties with black-framed eyeglasses, neatly tied hair of the same color and big blue eyes.

For a moment she appeared just as startled as he did but then smiled. "Well good morning, Dr. Reid. I'm Dr. Alanna Douglas – I've been treating you since you were cleared from the ICU. It's good to finally have you with us." She made some notes, then walked to his bed and pulled out a tiny flashlight. "Could you follow this light with your eyes?" He did as ordered, every single one of his muscles tightening. She nodded with approval. "Very good. Do you know why you're here?"

Spencer nodded, his throat so raspy and sore that he didn't dare to even try talking yet.

Although… To be fully honest he wasn't entirely sure. He remembered realizing what Dr. Harris was all about. He remembered running. He remembered black. And JJ.

Feeling a sudden wave of panic he squirmed, wishing from the bottom of his heart that his body would've had the strength for getting up. And then Dr. Douglas lay a hand on his shoulder. At that point even fear of facing masses of pain couldn't hold him back.

He _screamed_, his tormented throat making it sound like a noise coming from a injured, horrified wild animal. Or that's how it sounded in his head. He was fairly sure that in reality all he managed to squeeze out was a pathetic wheeze.

Dr. Douglas was quick to pull her hand away. Her face revealed hints of regret, sadness and fear, which only made him feel worse. "I understand that you've been through a lot, but we need to work together for your wellbeing, alright?" She sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, I really am." She nodded towards the TV, her nose wrinkling slightly. "And I'm even more sorry that we couldn't prevent that. A reporter sneaked into your room a day after you were admitted, dressed up as a member of staff. The footage was on air before anyone could do a thing to stop it."

Spencer nodded slowly, working his hardest to make sense into things. To him being unable to think properly was foreign and extremely unpleasant.

He then frowned, finally registering the pain floating pretty much everywhere inside his body. Something dramatic must've happened. He allowed his gaze to linger on the machines and tubes, then glanced towards the doctor with questioning, demanding eyes.

'_Just tell me, everything_', his eyes demanded.

Dr. Douglas seemed to understand although it was clear that she didn't like it. Her weight shifted from one leg to another. "Based on what I've heard from your friends you're man of science and facts, so I'm going to be honest with you. But you need to tell me if it's too much too soon." The doctor seemed hesitant at first but then began in a calm, soothing voice. "You were shot to the back. The bullet caused massive internal bleeding – we lost you once on the table. It took longer than we would've hoped before your body remembered how to breathe on its own again but you've been off the ventilator for two days." She sighed. "The bullet also damaged one of your kidneys irreversibly. It wouldn't have been life threatening if we hadn't discovered that you only had one kidney left to begin with. It seems that Dr. Harris removed the other. Your team believes that it was a trophy of some sort."

Spencer frowned, cold creeping into his body. Instinctively his hand found its way to his lower abdomen. "What… are you saying?" he asked in a absolutely pathetic raspy and barely audible voice. Of course he knew what the doctor was trying to say, intellectually. But it appeared he needed to hear it said out loud.

Dr. Douglas sighed, looking at him directly to eyes. "I'm sorry, but you're going to need dialysis until you get a new kidney." She seemed to bite the inner side of her cheek, trying to brace herself. "The kidney situation also complicates the process of your body getting rid of all the drugs Dr. Harris gave you. Your ICU doctor ran a tox screen as soon as you were admitted. There was a great deal of hallucinogens in your bloodstream."

Spencer sunk more heavily against his bedsheets and fought the urge to bury his face into his by then trembling hands. A stinging sensation took over his eyes but tears didn't fall.

So… After all this he'd have to fight against the chokehold of drugs, again? Fate sure had ways to screw around with him.

He shuddered when feeling a hand laid on top of his. It was Dr. Douglas', and somehow her smile made it easier than he could've ever imagined to accept the touch, the comfort. "I know this is a lot to take in, especially when you only just woke up. Right now your body needs a lot of rest. Once you're better I want you to be patient and take one step at a time. And come what may, remember that you're not in this alone." She replied to his frown with nodding towards the other side of the room. He looked towards the pointed direction. If he'd had even the slightest bit more strength in his body he would've smiled.

There on a surprisingly comfortable looking, huge chair was the slumped form of Emily, who was clearly fast asleep.

"Three days ago you were finally at least somewhat coherent for a couple of minutes. Since then she's been awake, waiting. She fell asleep a couple of hours ago", Dr. Douglas revealed.

Spencer blinked several times, staring at the sleeping woman. After everything he'd been through it was almost impossible to believe that Emily was really there, right before his eyes. He was scared to death that she might disappear and he'd be back with Dr. Harris if he'd close his eyes so he barely dared to blink.

"Get some rest, Dr. Reid." Dr. Douglas' voice sounded far off. He was clearly falling asleep already. Instead of the pain coursing through his body he focused on the feel of her cool hand. "They'll all be here when you wake up, I promise."

Spencer didn't have much of a choice, really. His head was already turning foggy.

The last thing he saw before the shadows swallowed him was Emily's eyes fluttering open.

* * *

><p>Aaron felt out of place and extremely uncomfortable as he stood in the room Spencer was locked into not too long ago.<p>

Two and a half months. That was how long Spencer spent here, while they searched through all the wrong places. Aaron knew he shouldn't blame himself. Dr. Harris was smart enough to take Spencer several states away from the original location, and after two weeks Erin Strauss ordered them in no uncertain terms to give the investigations into other hands.

Aaron should've never, ever fallen for that trap. He should've never trusted Spencer's life into the hands of strangers. Derek sure as hell didn't. Aaron knew exactly what the man had been doing whenever they weren't on a case. Aaron hoped from the bottom of his heart that one day Derek would understand that as a unit chief and father he had his hands full with looking after Jack and trying the keep the remaining BAU-family from falling apart completely.

But they were already in pieces. Derek was angry with everything and everyone, most of all with himself. JJ was tripping over herself trying to make amends and remain invisible. Emily was sinking into a world of guilt – these days she carried around the scent of cigarettes and long, sleepless nights. David was slowly yet surely isolating himself from the rest of them, having seen these things happen far too often. Penelope was utterly, throughoutly exhausted with trying futilely to keep at least a semblance of peace between all of them. And Aaron… He didn't even know what he was anymore.

They were in pieces. And Aaron, quite selfishly, hoped from the bottom of his heart that Spencer was the glue they needed. Once again he found himself wondering if Spencer had even the slightest clue of how important he was to them. If they'd ever bothered to show or tell him.

It was fortunate, really, that his thoughts were cut at that very moment by approaching steps. He glanced through the corner of his eye how Penelope stood beside him, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes were already shimmering with moisture.

Feeling a massive wave of sympathy towards her he considered taking her hand but decided against it. "What are you doing here?" he asked softly instead.

Penelope's mouth opened several times but in the end she didn't managed to produce what she was supposed to. Instead she shook her head, appearing dazed and crushed. "I have no idea."

It was then her eyes met what he'd been staring at for what felt like ages. The bed that only a blink ago belonged to Spencer had been flipped over, so that the bottom was visible. There, engraved to the wood in a all too familiar handwriting, were Spencer's desperate words.

'_You're SSA Dr. Spencer Reid._'

It seemed that was what it took for Penelope to break down. As she exploded into violent, loud sobs and covered her face with both hands something broke down inside Aaron as well.

For the first time since Haley Aaron felt a tear sliding down his cheek – just a single one, but still. Somehow it made the agonizing damn that'd been sitting on his chest crack just a little bit.

Outside sun peered through grey.

* * *

><p>When Spencer woke up once more he was immediately aware of the fact that he wasn't alone. Startled he turned his gaze to find JJ sitting on a chair right beside his bed.<p>

JJ. Alive and well. _Alive_.

So he hadn't dreamt that part, after all.

She smiled at him and despite the fact that there were tears in her eyes it made him feel warmer than he had in ages, since this all began. Her smile finally convinced him of the fact that he was really coming out of the nightmare.

He shivered slightly when her hand squeezed his, then found himself holding back. He truly hoped he managed to smile back at her, at least a little bit.

After _everything_ – after Emily and Ian Doyle, all the lies, those endless ten weeks, bitter words, hurt, _this_ – there was a huge load of things they'd have to go through before things could be even close to normal, close to what they once were. It'd take a lot of work to tear down the walls between them, hell a lot more than just one pasta party. He understood that. But as it was that failed to concern him.

He'd just been told she was dead – he'd almost died. After something like that…

He took a deep breath, finding himself relaxing despite the pain his body was in, and at least attempted to squeeze her hand once. She held back with both hands, with all her might.

He fell asleep to her touch. And JJ stayed right there beside him, even when the nightmares took control. When Spencer dreamt of Dr. Harris giving him an injection he could've sworn he heard her humming softly.

She couldn't shield him from the nightmares. But she was sure to walk him through them.

* * *

><p>TBC, for an epilogue.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Oh boy… (sighs) It's drawing close to the end, but the journey is only just beginning. There are TONS of scars to be closed, and not just for Reid.

**PLEASE**, leave a review – let me hear from you! Awww, c'mon – if I give cute puppy eyes would it softens your hearts to click the button down below…?

IN THE NEXT AND (geez, I can't believe this!) LAST ONE: Time has passed, but has time managed to mend all scars? A ghost from the past changes a life.

Until next time! I REALLY hope you'll all join in for the finally.

Take care!

* * *

><p><strong>secret agent person<strong>: Awww, such kind words! (beams)

Oh no! (winces) I wouldn't want the ninja monkies cry. It'd be so sad! (chews bottom lip)

Massive thank yous for the review! I really hope the next one's worth the wait.


	10. Epilogue

A/N: Oh man! (takes a deep breath) I can't believe this. Folks, it's the last chapter! This story is actually coming to an end.

BUT, first things first… Thank you so much for those absolutely amazing reviews! It's been really good to write to you guys. So thank you! (HUGS)

Awkay… (swallows) I'm REALLY insecure when it comes to final chapters, so I'm just going to bite the bullet before I chicken out. (smirks sheepishly) I REALLY hope you'll consider this a worthy final!

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Just listen to 'Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own' from U2, or read the lyrics! It fits this story so well. (grins)

* * *

><p>Epilogue – Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own<p>

* * *

><p><em>Eight months later<em>

* * *

><p>Spencer had known not to expect miracles since he was a little child. Since then life had given him countless of reasons not to believe. His mom had tried to rip that skepticism from him several times but never quite succeeded.<p>

Spencer didn't believe in miracles. That's why he was practically trembling with anxiety as he sat on the edge of a hospital bed, already wearing one of those horrendous gowns.

After eight months of thrice a week dialysis is was almost impossible to believe that some anonymous donor was really about to help him back to normality. That after this very day the torment would be over.

"Are you nervous about the surgery?" Emily's voice startled him. He shouldn't have forgotten that she was there, really. Since the beginning of his treatments the team had made sure that no matter what one of them would stay behind and be there with him. Even now the rest of the team was working on a case. It felt almost like they feared he might vanish or something horrible would happen if they left him alone. Spencer had no idea what to think of such attention.

Spencer didn't know how to answer her without sounding like a lunatic so he nodded faintly and muttered a "Hmm". And then his eyes happened to stray towards the room's window. His heart shuddered just a little bit.

It was raining outside. Raining although weather forecast had promised only 5 percent's chance of rain. Most people probably viewed it as extremely bad luck. To Spencer it was the closest thing to a miracle he could accept.

So even statistics were mistaken sometimes.

Emily frowned, despite the fact the she tried to hide it visibly worried. "Reid? Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly and swallowed. Somewhere inside him warmth began to grow, reach towards the tips of his fingers and toes. He wondered if it was because of medication. "Yeah", he breathed out. "I just… I was thinking that I should've listened to my mom, that's all."

Emily nodded and pressed her lips together. She knew him well enough to understand that despite all the years they'd known each other this was a topic not to be pressed. She did, however, do something that was almost equally risky.

Spencer shivered when feeling a hand wrap around his. Looking down he discovered Emily's fingers right there, circled determinedly around his. He hesitated for the longest time, several simultaneous urges roaring inside his head. Then his fingers twitched, finally finding their way through hers.

It didn't last longer than a couple of fleeting seconds, for one long breath – it didn't need to. The agent was up, stretching, by the time a nurse with the reddest hair he'd ever seen and equally bright blue eyes entered the room.

The nurse smiled. "I'm sorry, but the OR is almost ready. We'll be taking the doctor here in shortly."

Emily nodded. It took a profiler to discover the uneasiness and distress hiding on her features. "Thank you." She gave him a glance, the look speaking what she didn't want to express with words. "Hang in there, okay? I'll be waiting when you wake up."

Spencer nodded, not quite sure how to feel about that fact. He watched her walk away and kept his eyes on the door several seconds after it'd closed behind her. He knew she'd call the rest of the team as fast as she could. And at that moment fear rose inside him.

It felt horrifying and incredibly good at the same time, to have so much to lose.

The nurse had a tiny grin flashing on her lips as she began the preparations. "You have quite a family."

To his own great surprise Spencer smiled back. "Yeah. I do."

* * *

><p>In a room not all that far away a young nurse Yvonne Warren's brown eyes shifted towards the man who was sitting on the edge of a bed. Preparing his IV she hesitated, then spoke the words that'd lingered on the tip of her tongue since she first met him. "I don't know what happened in the past. And I have no right to tell you what to do", she admitted. "But I do think you should go and see him, talk to him. He deserves to know, especially since soon he's carrying around your organ."<p>

The man shook his head determinedly, gritting his teeth hard. He watched how she attached the IV before finally speaking in a quiet voice. "I _should've_ done that years ago. I should've talked to him, should've faced him." He winced ever so slightly when the drug began to seep into his system. "But now he's… not that kid I used to know. He's been through hell without me, with the support of those around him. He's a lot stronger than I ever gave him credit for." He blinked a couple of times and she couldn't tell if it was because of medication or threatening tears. "He doesn't need me in his life anymore. He's grown past that."

Yvonne felt a tiny, sad smile making its way to her face. She brushed his hand unnecessarily. "For someone who used to be a profiler you don't know people very well." With that she began to leave. "I'll come and escort you to the OR soon, alright? Try to relax."

She got no response.

Left alone into the room Jason Gideon sighed, trying to relax his stiff shoulders. What his eyes saw was a secret only he knew.

As he waited, no longer sure what he was waiting for, ghosts of the past kept him company. But for once they were quiet.

* * *

><p>Several days later Spencer was just getting dressed, eagerly preparing to leave the hospital, when the room's door opened unexpectedly. He thought it'd be a nurse. That's why jumped slightly when JJ entered instead.<p>

He wasn't sure which one of them blushed more as she took in his still bare chest. He wished that he imagined the pain that flashed in her eyes when they spotted the new surgical wound on his stomach. She cleared her throat loudly. "I… came to take you home."

He frowned, buttoning his shirt as fast as possible. Suddenly he was very self conscious with his body. He fidgeted. "Don't you have a case?"

JJ grinned, shaking her head. "No. Not today. Now get dressed so I can get you out of here."

Spencer didn't have to be told twice.

The drive to his apartment building was shorter than he'd remembered. He blinked twice, staring at the building, before managing to climb out of the vehicle.

He frowned upon noticing how JJ took his hospital bag. "You don't have to…"

JJ shook her head, clearly determined. "We both know it's not a good idea for you to carry around heavy stuff for a while."

Spencer was about to point out that the bag wasn't that heavy but chose not to when seeing the look in JJ's eyes.

They were in the floor below his when JJ spoke, a somewhat mischievous look on her face. "So… How are you planning on celebrating this special day?"

Spencer blinked several times. "What are you talking about?"

JJ stared at him incredulously, then laughed. It wasn't until then he realized how much he'd missed her _real_ laugh, the one that came from the bottom of her heart and soul. "Well, Spence… Let's say that you'll get a real surprise soon."

He opened his mouth, only to realize that they were already stood behind his door. He opened the door – and almost fell to the floor with shock.

"Happy birthday, Reid!" came a chorus of voices.

The team… They were all there, gathered into his living room with wide, almost child like grins on their faces. There was a gigantic cake and the presents seemed to be everywhere.

Derek was still grinning as the man made his way to him. He was in too much of shock to stop the man from placing a completely ridiculous party hat on top of his head. "C'mon, Pretty boy. You need to blow your candles before the cake melts." Then, as an afterthought, the man winked and added. "Don't worry, they're _real_ candles this time."

Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn't keep himself from smiling slightly.

As Spencer allowed Derek to lead him to the cake and the rest of the team, mostly feigning protests, he felt more normal than ever in his life. It felt _good_.

While Spencer became occupied by blowing the candles Aaron took his time to examine the entire team.

He couldn't even imagine what the time in Dr. Harris' captivity was like for Spencer. Facing his worst fears and all the uncertainty alone… Actually being told that he'd killed someone, let alone one of his dearest friends… It was a miracle that the young genius didn't fall apart completely. The ordeal had left its marks, and not only on Spencer. But at least they were all healing together. David was letting the other members of the team closer, just a little bit but still. JJ smiled more and more every day. Penelope's sense of humor was coming back, slowly yet surely. Emily didn't have those eyes she did when she first joined the team anymore. Derek didn't seem to be afraid of touching Spencer and cracking jokes on the younger's expense anymore. And Aaron… He hadn't quite forgiven himself yet, no matter what he'd told Spencer. But at least he could believe that he might get there one day.

Their family had made it through hell, several times over. They'd make it through this one as well. Aaron knew that for sure as he looked at his team.

So, just as the final candle had died out and everyone started clapping and laughing, Aaron allowed himself a secret smile.

* * *

><p><em>Four months later<em>

* * *

><p>Spencer couldn't believe that it'd been almost a year since Dr. Harris took him. A really, really long year.<p>

Physically he was doing a lot better than before, mostly because he could finally sleep and eat a little bit better each day. The kidney transplant was working just as it was supposed to, which meant that he didn't have to go through dialysis anymore. The scars on his skin had healed but refused to disappear. He was particularly self conscious about the scars on his face – often it felt like they were the only thing people saw when they met him. But his body was a lot more resilient than it looked. Physically he'd been ready to return to fieldwork for a while.

Mentally, on the other hand… Well, he was trying, he really was. But he was also sadly aware that it'd take a very, very long time before he'd be able to trust another doctor. He was still on the edge all the time, and during the worst of days even the slightest sound could make him stiffen with anxiety. Every single one of his senses had a memory trace of the endless time that monster kept him; a glimpse, a scent, a taste or a tiny sound could push him back to those days, into the dark. The nightmares were the worst part, though. They still came every single night, wrapping around him like the coldest of blankets. But little by little the monsters hiding in the back of his head were growing smaller, quieter. Spencer already had hope that there'd eventually be a night when he'd be left alone completely.

After what he'd been through getting the help he needed wasn't exactly easy. Once the horror story with Dr. Harris ended Erin Strauss ordered him to go through a very long and intense therapy. It'd already continued for almost a full year and after every single session he was scared to death that he'd be locked up once more, this time for real. That he'd fall into a nightmare that wouldn't end. Now his career and future were in the hands of a yet another doctor, in those of his psychiatrist Melina Minsk. It was the time for his mandatory psychological evaluation, which would determine if he was allowed back on duty or not. The last time he was as terrified he was in Dr. Harris' hands.

"You're gonna tap a hole on the floor", a female voice pointed out all of a sudden, startling him. Looking to side he found a rather beautiful woman with half-long blond hair that'd been tied messily and blue eyes.

Spencer gritted his teeth, feeling like a child all of a sudden. It wasn't until then he noticed how restless his left foot was. He couldn't hold it still, no matter how hard he tried. "'Sorry." He gave his wrist watch a glance and frowned. "Dr. Minsk isn't usually this late."

The stranger shrugged, then watched him with a slight touch of curiosity. "I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

Against all odds Spencer relaxed ever so slightly. "Tuesdays aren't my usual day. Today's an… exception. I'm on her Thursday's list."

The woman nodded. "I see." She seemed to consider offering him her hand but chose against it. "I'm Lily."

"I'm Spencer." Spencer nodded towards the place's only book that lay on the tiny table between them.'Neuropsychiatry and Behavioural Neurology Explained: Diseases, Diagnosis, and Management'. "I think I've read that about fifty times by now."

Lily grinned just a little bit, obviously not realizing that he'd been serious. "I think you're the just about only person who can read here."

Spencer opened his mouth without the slightest clue of what he was going to say. He was, however, interrupted when his cell phone bleeped. His hand wasn't as steady as he would've liked it to be when he examined the item. There was a text message from Penelope.

'_You'd better rock that interview, Boy Wonder. Your whole family really, really wants you back. We're all cheering for you._'

For a moment, perhaps two, Spencer stared at his cell phone in something close to stun. Then, very slowly, a smile crept to his lips.

"Good news?"

He nodded slowly, still slightly unsure of how he should feel. "Yeah", he stated in the end, squeezing his cell phone for a second before switching it on silent mode and pocketing it. "Something like that."

"Spencer?" He shivered a little, turning his head. The place's receptionist, a woman with messy dirty-blond hair and brown eyes, was peering at him through her thick glasses. She nodded towards Dr. Minsk's office. "She's ready for you."

Spencer swallowed thickly. As he hauled himself up with severe difficulty his eyes strayed to the door and he couldn't look away.

"Hey, Spencer." Lily smiled. "You worry too much." Seeing his not quite as convinced look she went on. "I see that look in your eyes. There's no way you're going to fail this."

For the second time he smiled. "Thanks." With that he took a deep breath, allowing Penelope and Lily's words wash through him. The trembling of his body eased, slowly yet surely.

Suddenly the door before him didn't look so terrifying anymore.

As he walked on with somewhat heavy steps he had a strong feeling that he wasn't entirely alone.

* * *

><p>'Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.'<p>

(Mark Twain)

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><p><strong><em>End.<em>**

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><p>AN: I… seriously can't believe this is over! (gasps, and almost sobs)

And who knows… THERE MAY BE a little bit more to this story later. We'll see what my in-build muse comes up with… (grins)

This has been a insanely good ride and not least of all because of you. You guys ROCK! Just take a look at how much love you've given this story. (beams, and GLOMPS) THANK YOU! You're really, really precious to me.

**Please**, do let me hear your thoughts on this final bit as well! I'd really love to hear if you're happy with how things were wrapped up. (glances hopefully)

Once again, thank you! Who knows, maybe we'll be typing again later.

Take care!


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